


Prophets and Messengers

by Alphawave



Series: The universe sings [15]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alchemist/Taoist!Harold, Fantasy AU, Gay Sex, I put way too much thought into this...AS USUAL, M/M, Oracle!Sigma, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, The fantasy AU no one wanted or needed but BY GOD you're getting it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22437850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphawave/pseuds/Alphawave
Summary: The Oracle, a man who goes by the name of Sigma, is known throughout the city of Oasis as a man who can commune with the spirits, able to see far into the past and future. But all his jobs have been easy, until the appearance of a mysterious stranger in his temple, asking for his help to release him from a curse.But what is this curse, who is this man, and why does Sigma find himself so utterly entranced by him?Features Oracle!Sigma and Alchemist!Harold Winston
Relationships: Dr. Harold Winston/Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper
Series: The universe sings [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434493
Comments: 21
Kudos: 30





	1. Beyond sight

**Author's Note:**

> _I'm kinda taking inspiration from a lot of different cultures, namely Islamic culture and Ming Dynasty China. I'll try and do my best research to make sure I'm not accidentally offensive. As I said in the tags I put WAY too much thought into this. Also smut is here. Plenty of smut. You're welcome XD_

For the first time that year, there was a guest in the temple. No one saw the man creep up the crumbling steps, past the whispering hallways and the vigilant guards. No one except Sigma. He sat patiently, waiting for the man to reveal himself to him. Sigma knew this man was coming, even though the man was a complete stranger. No one spoke of his presence. No one knew a person would dare trespass the temple at night when all were asleep. The man was a stranger to these lands, just as Sigma was a long time ago, but Sigma knew regardless. He could see far into the future and past, at the cost of seeing the present. A green bandana was wrapped around his eyes, obscuring his vision.

The wooden floor creaked. A smile crept up Sigma’s face as he turned his head. The stranger knew they had been caught.

“You have come for my wisdom,” Sigma uttered.

The stranger’s voice was mellow and deep, as smooth as the finest silk. “You must be the Oracle.”

“And what of it?” Sigma asked. “No one dares approach me lest they have something they want to know, and something they’re willing to sacrifice in return.”

There was a shift in the air, but the man did not move. He must have bowed his head. “There is,” the man admitted. “I have travelled far to get here. It was by no means easy. I have done a lot of regrettable things to get here, but if the rumours are even remotely true about you, perhaps you would help me.”

There was a slight apprehension in the stranger’s voice. Sigma smirked. “You do not know if my powers are to be believed.”

Another, smaller whoosh of air. The stranger turned his head. “I’ve heard many who claim they can speak for the spirits. Even fewer who have claimed to harness them. All I’ve encountered turned out to be fake.” A hint of challenge rose in his voice, as if daring Sigma to prove his abilities.

Sigma laughed, as he sat up from his position and rose from the floor. His fingers made an intricate gesture, and the water pot on the table floated up, pouring equal amounts of water to two cups nearby.

“It really is true,” the stranger uttered. “You truly speak for the spirits.”

“I do not speak for the spirits, they speak only when they desire, _if_ they desire,” Sigma clarified. “I cannot commune with the dead, and I cannot assure you they will talk if I ask. If they do talk, they usually want a price. It is not my decision what that price is.” Sigma adjusted the strings of gravity at his fingertips, letting himself float more comfortably. “Their price is usually not cheap. If it is knowledge you seek, you must be certain in your heart that the reward is worth the risk.”

“I don’t want knowledge.”

“You don’t?” Sigma asked incredulously. That didn’t make sense. All anybody asked for was knowledge, whether it be of the future or of the whereabouts of another person or the realm of the spirits. If this stranger didn’t want knowledge, why was he here?

“I don’t,” he repeated. “I need a different kind of help from you.”

“And what is that?” Sigma asked. The stranger had been telling the truth so far, even if he could not see any micro expressions. He could not see anything in the present, just the future and past. But as he tried to sift through the murk, he had his answer before the stranger could tell him.

He could not see the stranger’s past and present. Only his arrival here, at this temple at this time. It was like he was unwritten from the space-time continuum itself.

Sigma floated backwards slightly in shock, nearly hitting his elbow to the wall. “You’re cursed,” he said, a tiny bit of amazement slipping in his voice.

“Can you help me lift it?”

“What did you do?”

“I don’t have any coin,” the stranger continued. “I don’t have anything to offer except my life, because that is the only thing I have now that is of any worth. If the gods will it, I will be dead soon enough anyway so please, show me mercy and at least attempt to help me. I will do whatever you want, become your servant or slave, degrade myself if needed. Any life is better than no life, Oracle.”

“You break into my temple asking for my help, but you have nothing to offer in return?” Sigma’s eyes narrowed, tugging at the strings that tied this stranger to the world, but there was no reaction. An anomaly, at the very least, and quite likely part of their curse. Sigma had no reason to suspect they were lying, and even if they were, his powers were so finely attuned that he could tell.

It’s been a while since Sigma’s had such a mystery like this. And he’d been starved of opportunities to use his intellect. So many had asked what his powers could do, what the gifts the spirits gave him could do. They never asked to use his natural talents, the mind and body he honed so finely before he became the spirits’ plaything. It was refreshing to have something to do for once. Something that didn’t require outside help. Just Sigma, the man. The legend.

“Take a step towards me,” Sigma said.

After a few seconds of hesitation, the stranger did.

“Tell me your name. Any name that I may call you by.”

“Then call me Charon.” It wasn’t his true name—not by a long shot, but then Sigma was not his true name either.

“ _Charon._ ” Sigma let the name roll over his tongue. It tasted pleasant. “I will try to break your curse, but even I cannot guarantee that I can do it. You will need to stay nearby so I may begin the proper experiments. You might have to do tasks that might not make sense, but you will have to do them. You will need to stay in town. If you have any other commitments then you must do them now before I begin.”

“I have none. I’m ready to start now. And your price?” His voice sounded so hopeful. So full of life, even as the slight creep of years gone by spilled from his throat.

Truth be told Sigma hadn’t considered ever being paid for his services. Not that he hadn’t been paid before regardless, especially before he became the spirit’s guide to Earth, but this was rather different. If the curse was a mystery even to Sigma, if he could not see into Charon’s past and future, then it had to be something powerful. Things like that needed time and effort to dispel. But Sigma had no need for money or land or fame. There was nothing he needed, but there was something this stranger could do to make his life easier.

“There’s…one thing,” Sigma said slowly.

“Anything, absolutely anything.”

“Well, ever since I’ve went blind, certain actions I could do have now become far more tedious and difficult, even with the abilities I wield, and my reputation as the Oracle have made things even more difficult.” He coughed loudly into his fist. “If you are willing, I am in need of a valet. A servant, if you will.”

Sigma couldn’t see, but he thought Charon gave a soft smile, if the spirits’ strings were to be believed. “I think I can do that, Oracle.”

“It’s Sigma. Just Sigma. There is no need for false titles here.” The irony of his words weren’t lost on him.

* * *

The man known as Charon turned out to be better company than Sigma expected. He was chatty by nature but knew when silence was demanded. He was a marvellous help around, going above and beyond to make sure that both Sigma and the temple were taken cared of. On Sigma’s orders he went to the markets and the libraries and the massive halls in the middle of the city to do whatever errand he was tasked to do. He never spent a single coin that Sigma handed him for himself, only on the things Sigma asked to be bought. It was foolish, if touching. It was hard to tell if Charon was acting this way out of fear of vengeance or from genuine respect.

There was no denying that Charon was helpful. He cleaned the temples and cooked meals in the morning and evening for the both of them. Once he found Sigma’s old library full of scriptures, he put it on himself to read them out loud for Sigma. Charon had the perfect voice for reading: soft, heartfelt, almost sensual as he teased out the words. Sigma couldn’t help but wonder what Charon looked like, but he never dared to place his hands on the man’s face and feel it for himself. It would ruin the mystery, but more importantly, he could see deep into a person’s mind if he touched them long enough. The most well-kept secrets and desires would be easily apparent to him. It was intimate, almost too intimate to try, but the thought always lingered in the back of his mind.

One night, when dusk had long settled and the desert wind brought a cool chill to the temple, Charon suddenly began to speak quietly of his past. That first night he only gave few details. He was an alchemist from another land, with no family and no allies. His voice wavered that night, the first time it ever had in Sigma’s presence, so he thought it best to talk about some personal truths of his own. He was a scholar from the Low Countries, and he wasn’t always blind. He had a name, and he had vision, but he gave it all up after he became one with the spirits.

Charon showed his appreciation by giving a small squeeze of Sigma’s shoulder. He did that now to better express his emotions to Sigma. Sigma gave a smile in return.

From there, it became almost a tradition after dinner for the both of them to share stories from their past. Sigma liked all of Charon’s stories, but he especially liked the ones about the places Charon had been to. He had explored so much of the Earth, from the densest jungles to the flattest plains to the iciest mountains and the harshest deserts, and it was absolutely fascinating to hear Charon describe them.

Charon saved his most vivid descriptions for his hometown: a city called Lijiang in a country far in the East. It had a beautiful lagoon with a mountain at the city’s edge. Timber framed houses with intricate carvings on the windows of birds and flowers representative of the four seasons. There were musicians every day in _Dayan,_ known as the Old town, and he’d hear them whenever he went to the markets, which always smelt of food and incense.

He’d never talk about his curse, or any truly personal details of his life, so Sigma did not. Charon was avoiding talking about these details, which gave Sigma some concerns, but he concentrated on studying the texts, figuring out how to bind Charon back to time and space.

He often went to bed late, the lamp running low. A benefit to a lack of sight; lamps and light did not stop him from working. He consulted the scriptures, letting the spirits speak their written words into his ears. Most of his time was spent separating the garbage from the jewels of knowledge. The general populace didn’t believe in spirits and curses and the like. Sigma didn’t either, until his encounter with them, but it did mean that any and all genuine scriptures on the subject were few and far in between. Still, there was benefit to research. His previous life taught him plenty on that subject. It was far from new for him.

Much as he is gifted by the spirits, he was ultimately a mortal man with mortal needs, and soon, in the middle of the night, he’d feel a heaviness take hold of his body, making his eyelids fall closed, and he’d float himself over to his humble bed.

Sigma would dream of Charon’s soothing voice often. Sometimes it lulled him to sleep. Other times, it kept him awake, whispering sweet nothings that Sigma longed to be true. He didn’t know when it first appeared, just that one day he became aware of an invisible string connecting his body to Charon. He’d tug at it, and a desperate feeling of longing stirred in his bones. He’d stroke it, and shivers ran down his spine. Far as he knew, Charon didn’t feel a thing. No sudden shift in the air. No reaction back.

Even now in the comfort of his bed, he could feel that string dangling in front of him, tempting him to no end. Sigma would gulp as he played with it, feeling wave after wave of warmth attack his skin in every sensitive place of his body. On his chest, on his throat, his inner thighs, his ass, his cock. It almost felt like a myriad of hands—Charon’s hands, his mind quickly corrected—touching him sensually. A lover’s touch, threatening to unravel Sigma to the very core.

He bit into his hand to stifle his moans, the other extended in front of him, playing that string like it was a harp made of golden light. The invisible hands on his body became needy, touching places that had not been touched by another in too many moons. They were hungry, and Sigma would feed them, giving his body up to them as he floated higher and higher. The heat would rise up from the pit of his belly, flames flickering, and then it was a raging inferno that consumed him from the inside out, and he bit so hard into his hand that he drew blood.

Gravity would take over, and he’d collapse onto the bed, leaving him staring forward into what he assumed was the ceiling. He wondered why he gave into such a fleeting pleasure, wondered why he assumed it was Charon’s hands touching him like that. Most of all, he wondered why he didn’t push that thought away. It was easy to imagine Charon touching him like that, making him feel so good.

The fact that it was so easy frightened Sigma as much as it aroused him.

The next morning, Sigma kept quiet, afraid that a single word could spell his ruin. Before Charon woke, he bandaged his hand to hide the bite mark, and then put on his gloves. He didn't want any accidental contact with skin to make him see into other people's minds. It was probing, and he often saw a lot of unwelcome things. Charon came to the kitchen with a big bounty. He had managed to find some eggs in the local markets, and made an omelette for the both of them to share.

They had barely finished their breakfast when one of the guards arrived. There was a guest at the door. An official from the city of Oasis. They would not be refused.

With a grunt, Sigma walked—not floated—from his personal quarters in the inner sanctum, to the main entrance of the temple. The entrance was ostenatatious, with ornate columns and intricate paintings and a mountain of incense that would make anyone sick of the scent. Keepsakes from the previous tenants of the temple before Sigma came along. It helped make the place feel a bit more special.

The official looked like it would rather be anywhere else. Her suit was form-fitting, as expected of a Minister of Oasis. All the guards were bowing before her, but Sigma didn’t.

“Sigma?” Harold whispered in his ear.

“Bow,” Sigma uttered.

“Huh?”

“I said bow,” he growled.

“At ease,” the Minister said with a wave of her bony fingers. The guards stood up. “It’s been too long, Siebren.”

“Lady O’Deorain,” Sigma growled.

“Do not worry, I am not here for you or your parlour tricks. I’m just in town to warn you before the other riffraff might tell you and ruin your _busy_ day.”

 _“Met de deur in huis vallen,_ ” Sigma said. “Get to the point.”

Lady O’Deorain’s nose wrinkled, but she continued. “We’ve received word that there’s a dangerous criminal in town. A man by the name of Dr. Wen. A chinaman. We obtained word he’s in hiding somewhere in Oasis, and he’s targeting the prophets and oracles of our great city.” She huffed in laughter. “Those charlatans deserve whatever twisted fate befell them. But it is still against the law, and he needs to be brought to justice.”

“Since when did you care about the law?”

“Since it disturbs my important research, a great deal. You should know of all people, Doctor de Kuiper, that I do not take kindly to being interrupted.”

Charon sharply inhaled in surprise. Lady O’Deorain swivelled her head toward him, eyes narrowing. Harold shuffled so close to Sigma that he could smell him. He smelt of spring waters and freshly cut grass. Gorgeous.

“And who might you be?” She asked.

“Harold Winston.” His voice was strong and defiant, even though the spirits told Sigma of Charon’s racing heartbeat. “Alchemist Harold Winston.”

Her head tilted to the side. “You have the clothes of a chinaman, but the name of a Britishman.”

“Half-castes exist,” Charon growled. “As far as I’m aware, it’s not illegal for me to wear the clothes on my back.”

“And what is a half-caste doing here in the temple of the Oracle anyway? I wouldn’t think any god would listen to you.”

“I was hired by the Oracle himself to take care of him.” Charon replied quickly. “A man with his ailment would find it hard to navigate the streets of Oasis. I offered my services, and we struck up a contract.”

Lady O’Deorain turned her head again, this time in Sigma’s direction. “Is that true, Siebren?”

If the bandana weren’t securely over his face, Sigma would glare in Charon’s direction—or Harold Winston’s direction, if that was even his real name. Much as he loathed Moira for her organisation’s treatment of him when he first received heard the spirit’s voices, she had little reason to lie to him or fight him. She had her organisation at the top of the pyramid, and Sigma kept to himself in the back alleys of the city, far away from the crowds and her ilk.

Charon was lying, but then again he had done nothing to suggest he had malicious intent. There were plenty of opportunities for him to attack, but he took none of them. He had gone out of his way to do chores without being asked. He was silent on important matters, but he had never lied until this moment. Could Charon be trusted?

“Did you hear me, Siebren? I asked you if this man’s words were the truth. I know you can tell.”

Sigma gritted his teeth. He was going to regret this decision. “He did not lie at all.”

“A pity,” Moira sighed. “I suppose he is not here. But do keep an eye out, Doctor de Kuiper. I’d hate to see you waste away.” With what Sigma assumed was a flick of her wrist, she walked off, the click of her heels disappearing down the stone steps. It took a full minute before her footsteps couldn’t be heard anymore.

By his side, Charon breathed a sigh of relief. “That was close. Thank you for—NNGH!”

With his powers he lifted Charon up and pulled him through the entrance to his private quarters. He slammed Charon into the wall, making the man wince. In Sigma’s ears, the spirits began to chant for a sacrifice. With a grunt, Sigma pushed them away.

“Who are you?” Sigma hissed.

“H-hey, the last time someone had me up like this was my previous partner, and let me tell you, the context was _very_ much different.”

Charon wasn’t lying, which made the faintest blush creep up Sigma’s cheeks. His face scrunched up as he slammed Charon into the wall again, hoping against all hopes that Charon didn’t see it. “I am not repeating this again. Who are you?”

“Harold,” Charon replied. “Dr. Harold Winston.”

“Don’t give me your poisonous lies. I know she’s looking for you. You’re Dr. Wen.”

“If you really want to know, they called me Dr. Wen in _Zhonghua,_ where I used to work _._ Winston? Wen? Sounds similar enough. But my name is Harold Winston.”

“You have been hiding a lot of important things from me. _Me._ The one who is studying every day and night trying to find a cure for you.”

“L-look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think they’d look for me.”

There was that stupid little string between their bodies, dangling in front of him. His hands were burning hot in his gloves. He could touch Charon. Know for certain every little event that occurred in his life, but Sigma didn't want to. Having someone else's entire memories always wreaked havoc on his mind. “What are you really after? Why are they after you?”

“I-I don’t know,” Charon said.

“Don’t lie to me‼!” With a harsh growl, Sigma used his powers to force Harold’s chin up. He was pinned fully to the wall, rising higher, limbs away from his body leaving him spread-eagle.

Charon made a small gasp. His breathing was quicker. His heartbeat was quicker. Sigma floated up so he was level with Charon, gripping onto Charon’s hair tightly.

“You will tell me everything,” Sigma uttered. “And I mean everything. It was out of kindness that I agreed to help you in the first place, but I cannot help unless you tell me what you know. Otherwise I will kick you back out into the streets. You can find some other fool to try and solve your maladies. Understand?”

Charon’s breaths were shaky. “Y-yes.” He sounded like he couldn’t control himself. He was biting down hard on his lip, cheeks crimson.

He tugged harshly on Charon’s scalp. His face was centimetre’s from Charon’s. “Yes, _what_?”

Charon barely opened his mouth when a moan escaped from his lips, only to be hurriedly silenced as he bit harder onto his lip. It wasn’t a fearful moan. It was something else entirely, born from a much more carnal emotion. This wasn’t the reaction Sigma was expecting at all. It wasn’t. So why could he feel his own cheeks crimson? Why did it light a spark in the pit of his stomach? Why was Charon reacting like this to him?

Sigma’s face went blank as he let go of his grip on Charon's hair. It was a futile attempt to hide his own stutters, his own hesitation, as his hands trailed down the fabric of Charon’s robes. Charon gasped again, short little pants as he did everything in his power to stop the desperate noises that burned to escape his throat. From this, Sigma could tell that Charon had a slender but muscular build, but that wasn’t what he was looking for. His fingers found the edge of Charon’s robes. He gulped, his only sign of weakness, as he pulled it up. He needed to know. He had to know. 

Charon hissed as the cool air hit his sensitive skin. Sigma didn’t need to see to know what was in front of him. An erection, standing tall and proud. The cogs in Sigma’s brain stopped churning. From this one action, many more invisible strings appeared before him, connecting their bodies together. From these strings, Sigma saw a glimpse into his own future, of him writhing in pleasure on his own bed. He was naked, the full moon high from the window frames, soft moonlight making his pale skin glow. But he wasn’t alone. There was another man in his bed with long greying hair pulled up into a tight bun, and large circular spectacles, and dark brown eyes, and the most dazzling smile a man could ever make. And that smile was directed as Sigma.

The man was old and greying and clearly past his prime. In all of Sigma's life, he'd never met a more beautiful person. 

His lips opened, a word began to form, and then the fog rolled over and the vision was gone.

It took a lot of interpretation on Sigma’s part most of the time to interpret these fleeting visions the spirits sent his way but this time he was fairly confident he knew that the other man he saw was Charon himself. Or Harold Winston, as Sigma should now refer him by. He must admit, Charon had a nice ring, but Harold, oh that name had an even better taste.

Before Sigma could react, the strings of gravity began to glow golden, and suddenly a burst of power pushed him away, countering his powers. Harold fell down to the floor, his breathing sill quick and his face still flush as he quickly fixed his clothes. A golden aura surrounded his body, the likes of which Sigma had never encountered before. It wasn’t spirits, but it was supernatural by origin. And it completely negated Sigma’s powers.

This was the source of Harold’s curse. But it wasn’t just a curse. Just like with Sigma, it gave him something in return. Something that might be even more powerful than Sigma’s powers.

“You…what are you?” Sigma gasped.

“I…I…nngh.”

Sigma barely caught Harold as he collapsed suddenly in front of him. There was the flutter of eyelids, the slowing of his heartbeat, and then unconsciousness. On Sigma's best guess, Harold would be out for quite some time. With a sigh, Sigma carefully took Harold to the plush bed and gently laid him down. Despite the opportunity, he didn't remove the gloves from his hand, and touched Harold's skin. He just floated over to the ritual chamber and centered himself, letting himself become one with the spirits. Only they could tell him what he needed to do now. Only they could tell him the meaning of that rhythm that beats inside his chest whenever he thought of Harold.


	2. Beyond sound

Harold woke late in the evening, the dusk sun painting the temple a harsh pink. He’d been out for almost the entire day, and during that time Sigma was by his side, watching his condition with faked stoicism. Harold’s eyes opened slowly, then flitted around the chamber in confusion before finally landing on Sigma. Sigma imagined those eyes were big and wide. The spirits said as much to him.

Harold’s hand found the cup of water Sigma had set out beside the bed, alongside a platter of food and a water pitcher. “You…you let me stay here?”

“You are a guest of the temple.” Sigma turned his head away. “But more importantly, I have questions that I need answered.”

“I don’t understand, you heard what that Oasis official said, I’m wanted as a criminal. It’d be dangerous for you to keep me here.”

“After everything you witnessed, the power I have at my control, you still think I cannot handle a little danger?”

Harold went quiet. Siebren sighed softly. 

“You should rest. Eat something, or drink. If you die of malnourishment, it is no fault of mine. I will not have your death on my conscience.”

“You’re taking care of me,” Harold said quietly.

A bashful little smile appeared. “Perhaps,” Sigma said.

Harold smiled for a second. He slowly reached for the platter, eating the fruits and vegetables Sigma had prepared with careful bites before reaching for the cup filled with the freshest spring water. As Sigma hypothesised, that golden glow within Harold appeared once more, steadily increasing in intensity as his energy replenshied. From the way Harold shifted, he noticed too.

“That golden light. That power within you. That is the curse, is it not? It’s tied to your lifestream.”

“Yes,” Harold admitted softly.

“But how? How are you alive?” Sigma felt for that power within Harold, tried to sift through the fog but he still couldn’t penetrate it. Even now, with Harold at his weakest, Sigma couldn’t force his powers over the curse.

Harold was silent for several seconds. Then, “Can you see people’s lifestreams? Can you see exactly how long someone can live?”

Behind his bandana, Sigma’s eyes widened. “You can?”

“Since I was a baby,” Harold replied. “I could see exactly how long someone could live their natural life. I could see the breakage, whether it tapered off from the end of a long natural life, or if it was cut short by a tragic accident. I was always smart, always curious about the ways magic and science could help save lives. Becoming an alchemist was a no-brainer. My gifts combined, I tried to find a universal cure for the ailments that befell both humans and animals.”

“You were a researcher too?” Sigma was impressed.

Harold let out a small chuckle. “I am Dr. Harold Winston for a reason. And from that statement, I’m assuming you are the same, Dr. Siebren de Kuiper of the Lowlands.”

Sigma turned his head away. The way Harold said his name made him feel all sorts of funny things. “It’s Sigma now. That name means nothing anymore.” As much as it pained him, he was not a researcher anymore.

Harold nodded, continuing, “I travelled the world. Studied in Britain, but I wanted to use my gifts elsewhere. I learned the different alchemy practices in countries all over the world, including Oasis a long time ago. Soon, I found myself with an offer from the Emperor of China himself. He would give me the best laboratory in the world. He would give me subjects, and every known substance to man, and hundreds and hundreds of scriptures for me to decode. All I had to do was solve the ultimate goal of alchemists worldwide. And after many gruelling years, I did it. I found the elixir of immortality.”

It took a few seconds for the dots to connect in Sigma’s mind. “You drank it. You drank the elixir of immortality and you became immortal. And you…you want me to get rid of your immortality?”

“I didn’t drink it out of choice,” Harold spat. “There was a rebellion against the emperor. They attacked him, and then they attacked his closest subjects, including me. They slaughtered so many of my fellow colleagues, and then they went after me. I had subjects—pets really, but I loved them like my own—and I had to protect them. I drank the elixir and I fought the attackers off, but then I collapsed like earlier. When I woke up, my loved ones, they weren’t there anymore. I fled the city, then the country, then the continent.”

Light sniffling could be heard from the man in front of Sigma but no crying. Sigma frowned. “That is not the end of your story.”

Harold let out a shaky breath as he rubbed his eyes with his palm. “N-no, I…the rebels wanted to make a message out of me. They plundered my laboratory, and they found my notes. But those notes were written in numerous different languages, all in code. The new Manchu emperor put out a bounty on me, so I went into hiding. I tried to get rid of the elixir in my blood, but it was no use. Sooner or later, they’ll find me, and they’ll torture me eternally. I don’t want to give them that satisfaction.”

“So that power you unleashed on me,” Sigma said.

“It’s a sacrificial spell. One of the few bits of magic I learned, but I was never good enough to be a mage. It’s more powerful the more of your lifestream you give up. Useful when your lifestream is extended indefinitely.”

“But what about before that? When you…” Sigma cleared his throat loudly as he gestured in the vague direction of Harold’s groin.

“That,” Harold rubbed the back of his head nervously. “It’s, uh…I wasn’t lying about the whole ex-partner thing. Floating like that, having a hand in my hair, it just does something to me.” He chuckled. "Even I was surprised by how, um, _fast_ my body reacted."

That was Harold’s only lie that entire conversation. Otherwise, he said the whole truth. Why he felt to lie about the cause of his erection was beyond Sigma, and quite frankly he didn’t want to think too much into it either. Normally he was unaffected by human anatomy, but somehow Harold was proving to be the exception. That man had such a way of getting under Sigma’s skin, feeling his organs, touching his insides so sensually as if to bring about his climax from the inside out. If he wasn’t careful, he’d want Harold there, keeping him warm from the inside, drowning out the voices of the spirits that haunted every waking moment.

Every waking moment, that was, until Harold showed up and replaced their constant presence in his mind.

“Well?”

Sigma shook his head, the vision clearing before his eyes. “W-well what?” 

“What are you going to do with me?” Harold asked quietly. 

He wondered exactly that. Harold was no doubt trouble, but there was a genuine mystery to his curse. He spilled his secrets so eagerly, but he kept the inconsequential things close to his heart. If Sigma were a crueller man, he could use Harold. Promise him something he’d never give so he would stick around and be Sigma's servant until the end of time. But why? Why did Sigma want Harold to stay when every logical bit of his brain was telling him that Harold should go? What was it about him?

He should have put more thought into this decision. But for once he couldn't care less about the consequences. 

“Nothing,” Sigma said finally. “I trust tomorrow morning that you will not fail in your duties again. After all, I cannot attempt to cure your curse on an empty stomach.”

If Sigma wasn’t blind, he might have seen Harold’s lips pull up into a breathtaking smile. But he didn’t, and he grabbed a bundle of scrolls from his desk and took them to the prayer room where he studied until dawn, hoping against all hopes that his mind would be temporarily distracted from Dr. Harold Winston.

That was easier said than done.

* * *

Either Harold or the guards spilled about Sigma’s skills as the Oracle, because he had a few new clients come in. Most of them were the poor of Oasis, asking if there was any hope for wealth or food in their future, but there was one client who was of the wealthy class, asking for counsel from the spirits. They did not appear to be satisfied, but then Sigma rarely entertained theatrics for the sake of theatrics. He did not resort to parlour tricks like the other so-called Oracles of the city, did not use his powers if he had no personal need to. Besides, they were a distraction from his main goal of curing Harold Winston of the curse of immortality.

Sigma wished they were the only distractions from his work, but they weren’t. His mind was a far worse distraction, making him imagine Harold in a variety of sinful positions. It didn’t help that he finally had a face and body for the man. The few times he thought of Harold in that light ended quickly when he only had a voice for stimulus, but now that he knew what Harold looked like from that one brief vision, his fantasies went into overdrive. It was too easy to imagine Harold suspended in the air, completely at his mercy as he fucked his tight eager ass.

It was too easy to get excited from just his imagination.

It didn’t help that they were behaving different around each other now. Harold rarely talked unless it was something important or entertaining enough for comment, and Sigma rarely talked at all. If Harold just ignored him, that was fine, but he could feel the stares on his body when Harold thought he wouldn’t notice. At the dinner table, as they made their way back to the kitchen to wash up, he could feel the brush of a soft hand against his own for just a second. Sigma did nothing to stop these gestures, even as his heartbeat raced and his body begged for more.

It was that taboo moment that changed everything, that moment when he lifted Harold’s robes. He shouldn’t have done that. He still didn’t know why he did it. Frankly, he didn’t know how to feel about it. He just knew that if he wasn’t careful, he might do something he’d regret.

Late at night, he became insatiable, coaxing those strings to play their melody on his body. With every night he called upon them, their ravaging became hungrier, clingier, rougher. When before they'd take it slow, now they gave him what he really wanted. Those invisible hands tugged on his cock, stuck their invisible fingers in his mouth, caressed his skin.

Sometimes he'd imagine a corporeal form to those hands, a ghostly vision in the shape and form of Harold. Sometimes this ghostly Harold would make little noises. Soft gasps and low moans would echo throughout the room, and Sigma would often stare at the doorway he very well could not see, almost expecting the real Harold to come in and see him naked and aroused. He could not sleep, but he did not have the will to study either, so all he could do was indulge himself in his fantasy until he was spent and the dreadful guilt settled painfully in his chest.

Every night he thought the same thing. He had to cleanse his mind of Harold. He shouldn’t think about Harold.

There was one place that could do just that.

At the edge of the temple grounds was an open-air bath. Night had fallen, but the chill of the desert night had yet to settle. A stream of crystal clear water flowed down from a small spring on top of a hill. Back when the temple was populated, the acolytes had bathed here, claiming the enchanted water heightened their powers. The spirits told Sigma that the water was not magical but it was clean. 

He stripped off the tight bodysuit that made up his Oracle uniform and settled into the water. It was not hot, but it was not cold either, still a little bit warm from the setting sun. With his powers, he pulled the water above his head only to let it trickle down like rain, wetting his hair and face. There was definitely pros to the powers he wielded.

Amidst the rushing water, Sigma heard a small pitter-patter as light footsteps left the wooden temple floors for the stones outside. There was no way Sigma could mistake those footsteps. “Sigma, are you…o-oh.”

Sigma jolted, but kept his gaze forward. He blindly reached for the soap he laid out near the edge. “Do you mind?”

“S-sorry, I just couldn’t find you.” Harold rocked on the heels of his feet. “I…didn’t know we had this. Would’ve saved me from having to go all the way to the bathhouses in town.”

“The previous owners of this temple many years ago crafted this spring for bathing.”

“You knew who they were?” Harold asked, curious.

“I don’t. I’ve heard stories and made my own observations but that is all." Sigma vaguely gestured behind him at the miniature waterfall. "This place had been abandoned for a while before I came along. No one questioned my presence here, for obvious reasons.”

“Still, it’s beautiful,” Harold sighed. “The last time I saw something like this was ages ago, at _Mosi-oa-Tunya_ in _Mutapa Empire_ lands. It was this massive waterfall, stretching out far throughout the lands such that it almost enveloped the horizon. It just goes to show how wonderful and amazing this world could be. It’s all out there, just waiting to be discovered.”

Sigma turned his head to the rushing water, then at the stagnant pool beneath him. His bandana was still firmly in place, but even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be able to see anything. He didn’t know what the baths looked like. He didn’t even know if the temple was clean or not. All he could rely on was his other senses and his powers to guide him now. If only he had Harold's worldly experience, then perhaps he could picture what that massive waterfall might looked like. He'd only ever truly been in two places in the world, and that was here in Oasis, and his hometown back in the Lowlands.

He wondered what this place looked like from Harold’s perspective.

“Could you describe it for me? This area, these baths?” Sigma asked.

Harold seemed to stir for a few seconds before recognition dawned on him. “Sometimes I forget you can’t see.” There was the sound of cloth shuffling. Harold was quiet. “Could I…Is it possible if I can join you? In the water?”

Sigma stiffened. It was a bad idea, he knew that, but then what harm was there? He very well couldn’t see the man. And the water was hiding anything _extreme_ from Harold’s sight, the water level just below Sigma’s belly button. His mind was quick to remind him of all the things he could do in the water, but he was just as quick to purge them. “Fine,” Sigma said gruffly.

“Thanks,” Harold said as he stripped out of his robes and laid them up near the edge of the water. There was a clack, the sound of spectacles on stone Sigma realised, and then the splash of a body submerging into shallow water. Harold sighed loudly. “Oh, that feels good.”

Sigma turned his head away. In another, more lewd situation, those very words could spell his undoing. He coughed loudly into his fist. “You were going to tell me what this place looks like.”

“Right, right.” Harold splashed the water up to his face, wetting his hair. He was close, so close that Sigma could feel the droplets touch his own skin. “I mean, this place looks like something out of a fairy tale. There’s a small hill with water flowing down to this very bath. It’s coming from a stream from the freshwater river nearby, but it’s been directed here against nature’s will. And the water, it glitters like it is silver in this moonlight. Even this small pool we are sitting in looks like it’s glowing.”

Sigma tilted his head back, imagining how this place looked like. From Harold’s lips, this bath sounded like the most beautiful thing in all of the land. “Is there anything else?”

“There are stone pillars, with markings chiselled out. They’re weathered over time—must be centuries old by now. The steps for the ritual they performed here to bestow vitality upon all those who have been touched by the water. They considered this place the most holy part of the temple.”

“Vitality?” Sigma asked.

“I don’t know what they mean either. The rest of it I can’t read.”

Sigma nodded. “And where is the moon?”

“The moon?”

“Yes, I…it might sound silly but I was always fascinated with it. Studied it all my life before…” Sigma trailed off, unwillingly to finish his sentence.

“Then I’ll show you,” Harold said quietly.

The water shifted as Harold approached. Sigma opened his mouth, trying to warn Harold of what happened when people touched his bare flesh, but then a soft, warm hand wrapped around his fingers, pointing them high above his head.

“There,” Harold whispered. “There’s the moon. It’ll be two nights before a full moon. Bet this place will sparkle even more when that day comes.”

Sigma couldn’t hear what Harold was saying. Their skin was touching, and from this contact, Sigma could see the depths of Harold’s mind. And this mind was a warm cocoon, all round smooth shapes and soft textures. There was not an evil or negative thought about anyone or anything. In fact, there were few thoughts about others. Just about Sigma, and a large ape, and an oversized hamster. Harold’s pets, Sigma assumed.

“Do you need some help washing?” Harold asked quietly. “It’s the least I can do, what with you helping me with my curse.”

Sigma must have said yes, or nodded, or given some sign that Harold could continue, because suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and a soap bar on his left scapula. Both hands moved slowly, tracing every muscle of his body like they were delicate things that needed to be admired.

“You are well-built,” Harold said softly. “Strong, muscular, you must work out for a body like this. Even my last partner didn’t look as good as you do. I'm jealous”

Sigma’s breath hitched as he tried to sift through Harold’s thoughts. Harold’s mind was warm, but Sigma’s body was hotter, and it was only getting hotter with every centimetre the soap went lower. There were no discernible thoughts within Harold’s mind, just a tangled mess of emotions all directed at Sigma, and it took all of his effort to separate them into their distinct parts. If only he could decode these swirling thoughts and figure out what they meant. Why was Harold thinking about Sigma so much?

Harold breathed quietly into the back of Sigma’s neck, his hands running down to Sigma’s ass, just beneath the water. His movements slowed as he sharply inhaled. “You’re not saying stop. I’ll do it. Say the word and I’ll never look or touch you like this ever again.” His voice sounded strangled, barely louder than a whisper. “Please, Sigma. Just say no.”

“I…” But Sigma couldn’t say the very words that needed to be said. His mouth was open, but no sound escaped his throat. Only a pathetic mewl as his cock got hard beneath the water.

Harold grasped hold of Sigma’s cock and suddenly there was an explosion of emotions that Sigma perceived. It was desperation and need, fear and trepidation, lust and something a little bit softer. Within Harold’s swirling, chaotic thoughts, Sigma saw only himself and Harold, naked and wanting, giving in to one another so easily as they fucked each other roughly.

Sigma’s breath hitched. This was so private. He had to move away before he consumed Harold’s mind. So why was he leaning back into Harold, thrusting his hips into Harold’s hand? Why didn’t he stop?

“You feel so good, Sigma. Feel so wonderful,” Harold shivered. His own cock was firm now, rocking into the cleft of Sigma's ass. 

He couldn’t refuse. He just couldn’t. This wondrous friction was electrifying, and the fact that he knew that he was turning Harold on just made it even hotter. “I-I can see your mind. Every thought you make right now is mine to see for as long as you touch me. S-sooner or later, I’ll consume you.”

“ _Then consume me_ ,” Harold breathed. He stroked Sigma’s cock faster, his other hand discarding the soap in favour of slowly rubbing at Sigma’s puckered hole.

“D-do you really want this?” Sigma croaked.

“What do you think?” Harold chuckled breathily.

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on Harold’s thoughts, but all he could see was his own body through Harold’s eyes, shivering and shaking in delight. A new wave of lust hit his mind, creeping down his body. It hit him again and again, rocking him to his core, a blaze that burned from Harold’s touch and Harold’s thoughts.

Harold wanted him.

That single fact was all he needed to finally snap.

Sigma turned around and pushed Harold away slightly, before using his powers to manoeuvre Harold down on the edge of the pool so that only his calfs were submerged. Sigma waded over, using his powers to let the water trickle down above their heads, keeping their bodies wet. He waited, listening for the sound of Harold moving away, but all he could hear was the rushing water and the chirp of the nocturnal insects and Harold's heavy, heavy breaths.

The strings between their bodies had appeared once more, and his fingers begged to touch them, but he clenched his fists tight in his hand. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone like this for him. When was it? Before the spirits? That was such an awfully long time ago, and he wasn't even sure he was any good at it. Would a man like Harold even want such an old person like Sigma? Could he really give what they so obviously craved?

“Sigma,” Harold whispered. He cupped Sigma’s jaw, transmitting a wave of lust and concern and nervousness with his touch. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

But he did, and that was entirely the problem. He wanted Harold, just as much as Harold wanted him. If he tried to decode the murky fog that was his own mind, perhaps Sigma would figure out the reason for why this man penetrated through every thought, creeping into his mind just as easily as Sigma was creeping into Harold's mind.

He was mad for Harold. He was crazy for him. That’s all Sigma knew, and that’s all he cared about.

Sigma lifted his head up to where he assumed Harold’s eyes were. His fingers rubbed circles within Harold’s inner thigh, getting closer and closer to Harold’s throbbing erection with every revolution of his thumb.

“You want me to consume you?”

Harold gasped eagerly. “ _Please_.”

The corners of Sigma’s lips pulled upward. “Then I will consume _all_ of you.” He leaned forward, letting his nose graze over the tip of Harold’s cock, before taking it into his hot, wet mouth.

Any nervousness he might have felt went out the window when he heard Harold’s moans, brash and eager. It stirred something within him, making his cock throb in excitement. He let his tongue flicker out, gliding over the head before he took more into his throat, dragging his tongue over the shaft. There was another moan, louder and lewder than the first.

That was such an intoxicating sound. He wanted to hear it again. More. More. He wanted more.

Harold’s fingers moved to grip onto Sigma’s hair, tugging painfully, but it was fortunately short-lived as they glided up, fiddling with Sigma’s ponytail. Sigma felt his wet hair cascade down to his shoulders and stick to his skin, the hairband snapped onto Harold’s wrist.

Harold chuckled in between his moans. “You look so pretty like this.”

Sigma slid away from Harold’s cock with a pop. His cheeks were crimson. “Don’t call me pretty.”

“Why not? You are.” Another light chuckle as his fingers felt for the edge of Sigma's bandana. “You’d look even prettier when I can see your eyes. I’m sure of it. I bet they’d be beautiful.”

“I warned you,” Sigma said as he lifted his fingers, rolling them in an intricate pattern. Harold’s hands suddenly shot up, wrists crossed above his head. An invisible force was supporting his back and spreading his legs.

Harold let out a shaky sigh. “Oh gosh, please.”

“Such a kinky pervert,” Sigma teased.

“I am,” Harold moaned, more to himself than to Sigma. “I’m such a filthy pervert. I'm so filthy.”

" _Then I'll clean you up,_ " Sigma growled.

Perhaps they were both perverted old men, Sigma wanted to add but didn’t as his lips wrapped around the head once more. His hand stroked the shaft all the way down to a bed of pubic hair. He felt his way through the wondrous expanse of Harold’s mind, drinking up the lust and desire that had corrupted his thoughts. He couldn’t see Harold’s memories—those were still locked tight—but the defences were weakening. Just a little touch there, a little magic here, and the shell would crack and he could see the wonderful treasures within.

That golden energy surrounding Harold shifted and swayed as Sigma felt his way through Harold’s mind. He tried to mimic the touch from the strings; stroke him softly, then dig his fingers hard at the meatiest flesh, before rubbing the sore spot. It seemed to be working. Harold was panting hard, his arms straining to fight the invisible bonds but despite the power he wielded, he made no attempt to use it.

“Does it feel good when I touch you here?” Sigma asked, twisting his grip as he slid his hand up to the shaft.

Harold nodded eagerly. “Y-yes.”

“And what about here?” He used his powers to tenderly caress the corners of Harold’s mind.

There’s an obscene gasp, and a new swell of desire flooded Sigma’s mind. “ _Yes,_ ” Harold sighed.

Sigma could feel what Harold was feeling, and it was like every synapse of his body was firing at double the intensity. Their minds were no longer their own, but instead fusing together to become one. The bonds that shackled Harold came loose with a blast of golden light, and soon Harold’s pulling Sigma closer, tangling his fingers into Sigma’s long white hair as he moaned to the heavens. Sigma almost gagged—almost—but he remained firm and swallowed all of Harold’s pulsating cock. Every sigh he earned, every moan he created, it caused a chain reaction that made shivers run down his spine.

He was so sensitive. Harold was making him so sensitive. He wouldn’t last long.

He was only faintly aware of their bodies rising higher, the strings that connected him to Earth breaking one by one. The water that was sprinkling above their heads was now surrounding their bodies like a barrier, swirling, swishing, protecting them from sight. Harold gripped tighter, shouts of “there” and “oh god” and “yes” dripped from his beautiful wanting lips. Their minds were one entity, past and present and future coalescing into something indistinguishable. Harold’s memories were his own. Harold’s emotions were his own. For once, Sigma wanted to hoard it all. Forget his inhibitions and his doubts and just lose himself to Harold. Just so he could remember this feeling.

“Please, Sigma, please. Take me. Consume me,” Harold breathed.

A wave of water pressed onto their hot skin, cooling them, but Sigma kept the pace up, licking and sucking to the best of his ability. Suddenly a pair of hands pulled him away from Harold’s cock, and before he could react, he was kissed passionately on the lips. He could feel the hot rush inside his head, a searing white light exploding as Harold's emotions exploded like fireworks, and then hot sticky trails of cum sticking onto his skin. It was so perfect and so good. Sigma had no control over himself. He dug his fingers into the meat of Harold’s shoulders and kissed back roughly, cumming shortly afterward. Even when he was spent, neither of them stopped kissing. 

Neither of them wanted to stop. Neither of them could stop even if they wanted to. Their tongues explored each other until their lungs couldn't take anymore.

Time seemed to slow when their lips pulled away, a trail of saliva connecting their hungry mouths. Sigma was still touching Harold, and for a brief moment he saw his own face flickered within Harold’s thoughts, surrounded by a soft pink halo. He was old and wrinkly, a shadow of his former self, and yet within the confines of Harold's mind he looked like the most beautiful man to ever grace the Earth. 

Before Sigma could question it, gravity returned, and they plummeted down into the bath. Their bodies are surrounded by water, floating just above the sharp, rocky bottom.

They’re both underwater, Harold unconsciously wrapping his limbs around Sigma for safety. There are words blubbered out to Sigma, but they’re drowned out by the bubbles. His lungs didn’t expect him to be underwater so soon, and they burned hotter than even Harold’s touch. They surfaced a few seconds later, Sigma gasping as his head went above the water. He removed himself from Harold, and almost immediately a nauseating headache overwhelmed him. He was dizzy, and his powers were unstable, but he had to get out. He had to get away from Harold.

He knew this would happen. Every single time he delved too deep into someone's mind, this horrible headache occurred and he could never know peace of mind for days, even weeks on end. He shouldn't have given in to Harold so easily. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

“Sigma?” Harold asked, curiously out of breath. “Did I do something?”

Sigma felt for the edge and lifted himself up and out slowly. It took all his effort to remember his name. “Leave me,” he croaked.

“I can return the favour,” Harold purred, fingertips reaching out for Sigma. “This doesn’t have to end now. I can make you feel good too.”

“No! Enough,” Sigma said. He gritted his teeth as a vicious wave of pain hit his head. His hands were balled into fists. His nails dug so deep into his own skin that he was bleeding.

Harold stirred as he too got out of the water. “Are you OK?”

“Don’t touch me,” Sigma hissed.

“I did do something,” Harold murmured.

“You didn’t—” Sigma’s hand went up to his temple. His jaw tightened. “This is exactly why I don’t do these sorts of things. All these memories that aren’t my own. All these emotions. They have to go somewhere. My mind can’t handle the overload.” Sigma shook his head lightly. “This is why I stay away from people."

“Is this why you’ve isolated yourself at the edge of the city? Why you’re so hard to find despite being such a powerful mystic?” Harold’s voice went quiet as he asked, “How lonely have you been?”

But Sigma didn’t give an answer. He didn’t want to answer, because they both knew what he’d say. He grabbed his clothes and his towel, wrapped the latter around his waist, and left the bath without another word.

He did not sleep that night. He blamed the pounding headache for his restless night.

Secretly, he knew it was because he could not get Harold out of his mind. Harold was right, and Sigma was wrong. Sigma absolutely hated being wrong.


	3. Beyond scent

For days he spent holed up in his study, reading his texts, letting the spirits guide him. When before things were awkward with Harold, now he outright avoided the man. He ate early in the mornings and late at night. He never went out in the day time, only when he was sure the man was sleeping. But Harold must have figured out what he was doing, cleaning the temple with an audible scrub, making sure the scent of his latest culinary creation drifted into Sigma’s quarters.

Harold, as he came to realise, was an extraordinarily perceptive man.

It was strange, in a lot of ways. When Sigma got hold of another’s memories, they would often fade away over time. Not so with Harold’s memories. They weren’t clear, still a little fuzzy around the edges, but the important details were there. He knew the names of his family members (which, by Harold’s definition of the word, included the names of an oversized gorilla, Winston, and a hamster, Hammond). He knew the barebones of Harold’s past, the many loved ones that have had the fortune to call Harold a romantic partner, and even the recipe for the elixir of immortality itself.

The recipe itself was tremendously helpful in Sigma’s studies, helping him refine his research and finally gave him some semblance of progress, but Sigma found that he couldn’t help but linger on Harold’s ex-partners. It was rude to pry, Sigma knew that, but Harold’s previous romantic partners were from all creeds and races and genders. If the incident at the spa wasn’t an indicator, Sigma practically knew first-hand what Harold’s sexual interests were, and this knowledge made him blush. Still, this little bit made him feel closer to Harold. Like he understood him better.

Like something else might happen between the two of them.

Sigma shook his head, gritting his teeth. He shouldn’t entertain the thought. He’ll do the spell and cure Harold’s curse, and then Harold will leave him, and Sigma will finally be alone for good.

So why did it fill him with such sadness when he thought of Harold leaving? After everything, why did he want Harold to stay?

He should talk to Harold, make things easier between the two of them again, but Sigma found that he could not handle those eyes staring at him, knowing and unknowing at the same time. And so, whenever the urge came, he’d plop down on his bed or rest his head on his desk and think of Harold in whatever wicked position Sigma fancied. Every time, the strings of gravity reappeared, begging for his touch. When once there used to be one sprouting from his chest, now there were hundreds spreading like weeds, stretching infinitely in front of him. And he played them like a harp, summoning those ethereal hands that caressed his body so tenderly and touched him so sensually, always bringing him to an orgasm. That urge was often, but it didn’t matter. As long as Harold did not know. As long as he could enjoy this while it lasted.

He expected Harold to barge into his room eventually, and Harold did on the third night. The door to his study slammed open, the scent of cooked meats barraging Sigma’s senses. Harold took a step forward, paused for several seconds, then walked several more steps until he was right next to Sigma. He dropped the plate with a loud clatter, displacing the scrolls strewn over Sigma’s desk.

Sigma took one sniff of the food. He felt his stomach rumble, but he didn’t take the food. Instead, he reached for his books and scrolls, studying them once more.

“You can’t avoid me,” Harold retorted. There was bite to his words. Bitterness, or perhaps annoyance. Maybe even sadness.

“I can, and I will,” Sigma grunted. He waved his hand, calling upon the spirits to float the scrolls toward him, but Harold gripped onto his wrist tightly and shot a wave of golden energy. The scrolls dropped from the air.

“Come on, Siebren,” Harold huffed.

“I told you not to call me Siebren.”

“Look, if you want to forget it happened, you could at least say so. Or just…act normal. Something. Not this. Not hiding away like a child.”

Sigma slowly turned his head toward Harold. He could not see Harold—he was still blind and the bandana was still tightly wrapped around his eyes—but he was sure Harold was glaring at him from behind his spectacles.

“What do you want me to do? You asked me to cure your curse, and that is exactly what I’m doing,” Sigma said.

“I mean, yes, but you make it sound like it’s just a contract. Like we don’t know each other.” A hand clasped tightly onto Sigma’s shoulder. “We both know we’re more than that,” Harold added, quieter.

A swell of warmth radiated from Harold’s mind, but before Sigma could understand what it meant, he shook the hand off his shoulder and the vision dissipated. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

“What else can I do? I’m trying to know about you, and you keep pushing me away.”

“You don’t need to know anything about me. I’m just the Oracle. The one bound to the spirits,” Sigma spat.

“We both know you’re more than that,” Harold retorted. “You were a man before you were the Oracle. You were a scientist like me.”

“And look where I ended up. Washed up, squatting in an abandoned temple with no eyesight, given powers I never wanted in the first place, hearing voices I never wanted to hear.”

“Then what were you?”

“I was great,” Sigma said soberly. “I wasn’t naturally talented like you were. I tried my best but I had no real magic power, so I could never be a mage, but I still pursued it. I was so obsessed with the magic that bound us to this Earth, that made sure we did not fly up to the heavens. I observed and I made notes. I didn’t care about the spirit realm, just the bridge in between magic and reality. And I found it. I found a new type of magic to harness.” Sigma felt for his bandana, and the scars underneath. “Or at least, I thought I found it.”

“God,” Harold sighed.

“It was my fault. I should’ve checked my equations. Double, triple, quadruple check the math. I should’ve done more experiments, more test subjects. I know I was this close to greatness, but now I can’t perform it anymore.” Sigma pressed his fingertips hard into his hairline, tugging at the grey strands of hair until they hurt. He was idiotic then for not double checking, and he was idiotic now for not cutting Harold out of his life already. “If only I could see, so I may perform it again! I was so close!”

“Sigma, calm down.” He tried to reach for Sigma again, but he swatted the hand away.

“Don’t,” Sigma hissed.

“Sigma, please—”

“Leave me alone, Harold.” He wouldn't be able to handle that sudden swarth of emotions. If Harold touched him again, he wouldn't know what he'd do. Every neuron in his brain told him to push Harold away, but every bone in his body wanted Harold closer.

“—I know you’re frustrated—"

"Enough."

"—but I can wait for the cure—”

“I already have your cure!” Sigma shouted.

Harold took a step back. Then another. His voice sounded so meek and quiet. “…w-what?”

“I…I know how to cure it already,” Sigma admitted. He bowed his head low, suddenly aware of how loud his voice was. The spirits were rumbling in his head but he forced them into submission. “I-I can undo your immortality, cut your lifestream at its natural end and make you mortal again. I have most of the necessary ingredients for the spell. If the unifying theories are correct, I can perform it as early as tomorrow.”

Harold stared at Sigma for what felt like an eternity. He didn't move, until he suddenly did, wrapping his arms around Sigma's shoulders as he stole the breath from Sigma's lungs with his lips. The contact was brief, sudden, but Sigma could feel the world drift away and the stars in the night sky surround his body. And despite his surroundings, he was perfectly warm, blanketed in the soft heat of the sun, asteroids striking at his nerves.

What was it about Harold that made him feel like this? What was it about Harold that made him open his mouth and lash his tongue out, tasting every sweet moan that escaped such divine lips? Why did he so desperately want to submit?

They broke away with a gasp. Sigma's eyes fluttered behind his bandana, until they widened at the sudden arrival of the strings. Harold was still on his lap, head tilted down toward Sigma's stomach. Slowly, Harold reached his fingers out for the strings and stroked them gingerly. " _Sigma_ ," Harold sighed.

A blaze of heat surrounded Sigma, touching every sensitive part of his body and making him gasp lewdly. Above him, Harold shivered loudly, rolling his shoulders. Sigma covered his mouth. If Harold was feeling this too, then…oh _no._

"You really think I can't see the bonds between us? You really think I don't feel this either?" Harold tugged at the strings sharply, and Sigma felt those ethereal hands press at his entrance. From above, Harold rolled his hips, grinding against Sigma’s crotch with glorious friction, making sure the cleft of his ass rocked against the curve of Sigma's growing cock.

"B-but your cure," Sigma uttered hoarsely.

Harold ignored Sigma. "The first time took me by surprise, I must admit that. When I suddenly felt something tug at me, pressing their slick heat inside of me, putting their invisible hands on me, I was almost frightened. But I could tell it was a human touch. From that touch, I was brought to the brink. I've never felt so good in my life. But then it kept happening, and I kept being taken to the precipice, and I realised who those hands belonged to. You were the one who was making me hot and bothered every day." He took the bonds in his hands. "Do you know what this is?"

Sigma shook his head quickly.

"They call it the red thread of fate where I come from," Harold whispered. His lips enclosed around Sigma's neck, just above the collar, making Sigma reel. "You might know it better as _soulmates_."

Sigma shivered. That couldn't be it. It just couldn't. But it made sense in a twisted, cruel way. But… with Harold? So late in his life? Soulmates were for young people, not old degrading men like him.

Harold pressed another kiss to Sigma's jaw. His hand left the strings, reaching for Sigma's chest, traveling down his stomach to cup his crotch.

"I-I…you can't," Sigma said. "We can't be soulmates. I'm not normal." He didn't deserve a soulmate, Sigma wanted to say but didn't.

"I never cared about normal," Harold replied. "You make it sound like I don't want this either. But I do. I've never wanted someone else so badly in my life."

And it was true. From the few memories Sigma stole from Harold, there was a build-up before this final step with Harold's other partners, and that build-up was slow and steady. But with the two of them, it was wildfire, spreading rapidly, threatening to consume them both. Sigma never felt this passion before in his life, never felt this desperate need for someone else. He never had serious relationships like Harold did. Never desired someone until Harold.

This was all uncharted territory. New and terrifying and exciting.

Sigma pressed his forehead to Harold's, trying to make sense of the spirits and his own thoughts and his swirling emotions. "I might have given you the idea that I've done this before."

"I figured," Harold chucked lightly. "Don't worry, I'm patient. And I'm willing to learn every little thing about you."

"Everything?" Sigma asked.

"Everything," Harold replied. "And I do mean _everything_."

It was almost a scramble to Harold's bedroom, plate of food abandoned on the desk, except it wasn't really a scramble. They took their time on the journey, pressing each other to the walls, kissing each other, feeling each other. Sigma could see bits and pieces of Harold's mind once more, but they weren't so overwhelming tonight. Not that he ever needed to see anything. Harold was vocal, moaning against Sigma's mouth when they kissed, giggling whenever Sigma's playful hands went southward. Harold smelled of the woods and the temple incense, and it was an ordinary scent, except it smelled divine coming from this heavenly man. If Sigma wasn't blind already, his eyes would be permanently shut in pleasure. He trusted Harold to lead him to the correct place, and to not make this a public spectacle. He didn't need his guards to get any ideas and lose what little reputation he had left.

Harold's guest room didn't change much from before he arrived. The dresser was still there, the bed was made, and the window was letting the nightly desert breeze in, making it cool. There were very few personal effects to make it homely, and yet it smelled of Harold, it felt like Harold. His presence could be felt on every object he touched, especially that mysterious jar that Sigma sensed. Harold led Sigma to his bed, pushing him down gently onto the mattress before plunging in greedily, his lips and tongue tracing as much of Sigma's skin as possible.

Fingers enclosed around Sigma's bodysuit, and Sigma's breath caught in his throat. He shuddered at the new sensation—it's been too long since he's been touched like this—but he kept still as Harold slowly rolled the bodysuit down, exposing his broad shoulders, his expansive chest, his toned stomach, and then his rock solid cock. The suit was quickly pulled the rest of the way down and thrown away in some direction.

Harold gasped. Sigma put an arm over his face, obscuring his lips and cheeks. His cock twitched. "Y-you've seen me naked already," he blushed.

"It's different," Harold said quickly. He was nervous too now. "I never got to get a good look at you." He leaned forward to press a few kisses to Sigma's stomach, rubbing his nose against his skin in the process.

Sigma shivered when Harold's lips found a sensitive spot. "I wish I could see you."

"Maybe you can," Harold said. Before Sigma could react, Harold's fingers felt for the border of his bandana, lifting it up and over his head. He quickly moved his arm up to shield his eyes from sight but Harold placed his fingers on his arm. "Sigma."

"D-don't. I-I look horrible."

"Why?"

"It was the spirits' price. They took my vision, I gave them my sense of sight. I've scared people in the past." He didn't want to scare Harold off. He should, if he wanted to be alone, but he didn't want to. For tonight at least, he didn't want to be alone anymore.

"You're not scary, you're handsome." He pressed his fingers lightly into Siebren's flesh. "Please."

Sigma felt his cock stir. He bit his lip down as he nodded microscopically. Harold moved his arm to the side, exposing his eyes, which were shut tight.

"Open your eyes," Harold whispered.

Slowly, he opened them, turning his face to Harold. Tried as he might, the best he could see were shapes and colours. He couldn't even make out a form to Harold, whether he was slim or fat, tall or short, the most beautiful man on this planet or the most beautiful soul on this planet.

Harold brushed his thumb over Sigma's face, tracing the scars leading away from his eyes. "Just as I thought. Your eyes are beautiful."

Sigma blushed. "W-what do they look like?"

"It's like seeing a thunderstorm from a distance. There are lightning bolts near your eyes, raised and a little bit red, but recovering. And your eyes, they're cloudy. Like the clouds covering the full moon. A little bit like the full moon tonight."

Sigma reached his hand for Harold's cheek, feeling his light stubble. "What do you look like?"

"Me? I'm not that good looking," Harold chuckled nervously. "Not like you anyway."

"I'll be the judge of that," Sigma smiled.

With a bit of muscle work, and a lot of help from his powers, Sigma swapped their positions, leaving Harold on his back on the mattress. He peeled off the layers of unfamiliar textures off of Harold's body, making sure to let his fingertips glide over every inch of new flesh exposed. Harold's skin was soft yet slick with sweat, and it twitched whenever his fingertips trailed over his nipples. There was a bit of fat from his old age, but also some lean muscles around the arms and stomach, which were all relatively hairless. It all felt so wonderfully Harold.

Suddenly Sigma felt golden waves surround his body, and the haze surrounding his vision began to clear. His powers were negated by Harold, and the price he paid had been reimbursed temporarily. For that brief moment, he could see Harold, an almost spitting replica of the man from his vision so many days ago. The same spectacles, the same grey hair pulled into a tight bun, the same warm smile. He swept his gaze down, past his toned stomach to a long, wet cock surrounded by a bed of hair. His mouth watered at the sight, his eyes glittering in childlike wonder. This was his to touch, his to taste, smell, hear, _see._ Harold was his, all his, only his.

Before Sigma could drink every detail in of Harold's body, the fog returned, and the golden waves dissipated. Harold's hand left Sigma's. He'd exhausted his power for tonight.

"Well?" Harold asked breathily, trying and failing to hide his nervousness. "I'm not too old, am I?"

Sigma's face softened. "You're not." He took the glasses off of Harold's face and loosened the hair tie. "You're perfect. Absolutely stunning."

Harold giggled bashfully. Sigma imagined those cheeks of his to be a nice rosy pink.

With his magic, Sigma summoned over the mysterious jar, tipping the contents out. A viscous oil oozed onto his fingers. Sigma smiled to himself. His hypothesis was correct. This was lube.

Sigma made a show of showing his fingers to Harold (or where he assumed Harold's face was), and then he pressed his thumb to Harold's entrance. It slid in easily. "Siebren," Harold sighed.

In what felt like moments, Sigma was able to put in two fingers, and then a third into Harold's puckered hole. As he felt his fingers glide in and out, he couldn't help but imagine his cock doing the same to Harold's tight little ass. What kind of faces would Harold make? He wish he knew. He wished he could see every little expression that Harold made.

"Harold," he gasped, a final plea to continue.

" _Please_ ," Harold whispered.

Sigma whimpered a little, but quickly rubbed himself with the oil, and pressed the head of his cock to Harold's entrance. He rocked his hips a bit, the very tip inside Harold, and just this little bit being inside Harold made heat coalesce in his veins. He wanted more. He needed more.

Harold maneuvered himself so that he was now on his stomach. His chest was low and his hips were high as he shifted backward, his ass enveloping more of Sigma's cock. Harold whined, a high-pitched noise that seemed to make the world tilt on its axis. Sigma ignored this dizziness, shifting forward until he was entirely sheathed within Harold.

Harold's back arched even more, a gasp escaping his lips. Sigma placed a hand on the small of his back, steadying him slightly. He waited until Harold's breathing was as quiet as the desert breeze. Then, he began to move slowly, carefully. He closed his eyes and tried to remember this intoxicating feeling because he knew this moment would become the basis of millions of wet dreams and erotic fantasies. He knew because nothing and no one ever made him feel like this. Only this moment. Only Harold.

"So good," Sigma hummed.

But Harold wasn't satisfied. "Harder," he said. "Need harder. Need rougher."

"You didn't need rougher or faster before," Sigma laughed as he slapped Harold's ass lightly, jiggling microscopically.

Harold groaned as he sashayed his hips, making Sigma moan. "Just do it. Need you hard and fast inside me. I know you can do it."

Sigma's lips tilted up into a smirk, and then he thrusted hard, his hips smacking loudly onto Harold's ass. A long moan dripped from Harold's lips. Sigma leaned forward, grazing his lips over Harold's ear. "Like this?"

Harold shivered. "D-don't stop. Harder than that."

Sigma drove into Harold harder.

"More."

He put his other hand on Harold's ass for balance, and drove in again.

" _More_."

Sigma gritted his teeth, and then he began to furiously pound Harold, no longer waiting to see if it was good enough, if it was hard enough. Harold was incoherent, shouting loudly as he pushed his hips back to meet Sigma's cock, letting their filthy noises echo throughout the room. All Sigma could hear was the sound of his groin clapping against Harold's ass, his own heavy breathing, and Harold's eager moans as he found Harold's prostate again and again.

Sigma pressed his fingers into Harold’s hips as he felt his powers surge. The furniture began to rattle, the spirits got louder, but Sigma bit his lip and just concentrated on Harold, and making Harold feel good, and making Harold feel _great_. Harold's mind was playing a game of hot and cold with him, telling him how to thrust, how to angle his hips, how to make those intoxicating little noises louder.

"C-close?" Harold asked, his voice getting hoarse.

Siebren opened his mouth, but no noises came out, so he just nodded furiously.

"Inside," Harold said. He blindly reached a hand behind him, finding Sigma's wrist. A small wave of golden energy transmitted from his fingertips, and the furniture stopped rattling. Sigma rolled his hand, gripping onto Harold's wrist, and then grabbing the other to pull them up, and then he proceeded to fuck Harold as hard and long and deep as he possibly could. He couldn't stop himself from blabbering even if he wanted to.

"So good, so perfect," his mind blanked as his English vocabulary left him. All he had was his Dutch. " _Ik kan niet zonder jou. Wij zijn voor elkaar bestemd. Ik zie in jou in meer dan alleen een vriend."_

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yessss," Harold groaned.

Sigma whimpered, and then he cummed in long bursts of ecstasy inside of Harold. He let go of Harold's wrists, and those hands immediately went down to his engorged cock, rubbing it until his white cum stained his stomach and the bedsheets beneath. They were both shivering and shaking, and he waited until the bursts faded away before he slowly slid his flaccid cock out of Harold's ass, now stained a creamy white.

The two of them collapsed, just a bit to the left of the cum stain that Harold left behind. Harold's scent now choked the air, surrounding Sigma's senses. If he was younger, that intoxicating scent alone might have given him the energy for another round, another go. As it stood, however, he just wanted to lie down and let the world stop spinning.

Harold rested on his stomach for a while, and then he turned to face Sigma, his hand reaching out for Sigma's. He didn't fight it when Harold entwined their fingers together, giving him a glimpse of Harold's pulsating mind. It was warm, and happy. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, imagining a world where Harold could lie by his side every night.

"So…you'll be able to cure me tomorrow?" Harold asked quietly.

Sigma bit back a frown. "If I do it correctly, I should be able to." He didn't want to think about tomorrow, he didn't say. He didn't want to think about a future without Harold in it.

Harold shifted onto his side. "So this will be it, then?"

This time, Sigma did frown. "It seems so."

"We won't see each other again?" Harold's voice sounded so dejected all of a sudden.

"You're a criminal on the run," Sigma said. "I made enemies before and I barely escaped with my life. The Ministries turned a blind eye on me because I did them a favour. If I betray them now, I won't have a home anymore."

Harold shifted, as if he wanted to say something, but Sigma strained his ears and heard nothing but the sound of a soft sigh, and then the briefest kiss to his lips. Before Sigma could react, Harold had already retreated, lying down beside him.

Sigma turned to his back and stared at the ceiling, not shifting a bit when he felt Harold press his head against him. The two of them slept side by side like this, still holding onto each other's hand, listening to the soft sounds of the other's breathing. Despite their attempts, neither of them slept. They were both afraid that if they let go, they would forever drift apart like the star-crossed lovers they were.


	4. Beyond taste

It took some time for Sigma to get everything he needed for the ritual. It could have taken a much shorter time, but the townsfolk were whispering now of the dangerous criminal Dr. Wen. There was now a story to the name, of a man who rose to incredible heights but flew too close to the sun, of a degenerate who used humans and animals as test subjects for his cruel experiments, of a deviant who betrayed his former employer to wreak havoc upon the lands of Oasis. It was a complete fabrication, but it was enough to keep Harold put at the temple, afraid to venture outside.

"They don't know Dr. Wen is you," Sigma said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"But they don't know it's  _ not  _ me," Harold sighed. "Look, I might dress like the people, but it's obvious I'm not from these parts. It didn't take long for people to put two and two together that I'm a foreigner."

"You seem to underestimate the idiocy of the people around us. We have time. It's fine."

Harold lowered his head. The sound of his hands rubbing together nervously made Sigma frown.

"Don't tell me…"

"One of the guards figured out," Harold morosely said.

Sigma felt his heart lurch in his chest. "And…did they say anything?"

"No," he uttered. "They're not going to do anything. It's our little secret. But the fact that he figured it out isn't reassuring. It won't be long before luck and faith runs dry, and I'm strung up for all eternity."

It was a relief that Harold was safe for now, but that brought a new problem. "You know someone needs to go to town to get the last ingredient."

"Can't you ask one of the guards then?"

"They don't have any connection to magic, either innately, learned, or by the generosity of the spirits. People like us are a rarity." Most people learned magic through intensive learning. Few had such natural, innate ability like Harold. Even fewer gained their powers through a pact with the spirits. "Even if they knew what to look for, they won't be able to sense if it's genuine or a dud."

"And just what is it do they need to look for anyway?"

" _ Aqua vitae _ ," Sigma turned to Harold. "You might know it as aqueous ethanol."

"Sigma, I'm an alchemist, of course I know what  _ aqua vitae  _ is." Harold frowned. "Does it have to be pure?"

Sigma nodded. "The slightest imperfection will ruin the spell. The person who wrote the original spell was very specific about this detail. Though your spell differs slightly from the texts, by my calculations, I too will need it to be pure."

"But I can't go out there. They'll arrest me," Harold said.

"I know," Sigma grumbled. "I'll have to do it."

"But you're still blind. No amount of spirits and magic can cure that. Not even mine. Not for how long you're going to be out."

"It'll be the first time I've went to town since I found this temple." His lips dipped into a frown. "I must admit, it's been so long I almost forgot how the markets looked like, and what it felt like to be around people." Quieter, he said, "I wonder if they still remember me for the monster I was, and the destruction I brought. I wouldn't blame them."

Harold tutted his lips slightly, and then he reached out for Sigma's hand. He traced symbols on Sigma's palm, golden energy seeping from his touch, painting the pale skin. From this brief touch, Sigma felt warmth filter through his body as Harold's emotions—happiness, discontent, love—flooded Sigma's mind. He wished he could transmit his own feelings as easily as Harold transmitted his. He knew all the twists and turns in Harold's mind by now, where to go to see exactly the thoughts and feelings when they sprung up. But it didn't work the other way around. Sigma had tried to bridge the gap, to reveal more of himself and his past, but he could never open himself so fully and so willingly as Harold did. If he did, would Harold still love him? Even after all the atrocities he'd caused in the past?

Harold finished, and Sigma felt a strange sigil emblazoned on his hand, pulsating slowly. Harold lifted his own hand to reveal an identical sigil, its own unique energy throbbing with every bit of blood that pumped around his body. "Tracker spell," Harold explained. "If you get yourself lost or in danger, we'll find each other. Just think of me and the path to me will reveal itself, no eyesight required."

Sigma traced the sigil with his fingers, trying to remember its shape and texture. As he reared his head up, a sudden thought intruded into his mind. He wanted to kiss Harold. He wanted to hold him close, and press their lips together, and sink into a bottomless abyss. But he couldn't. Harold may have said they were soulmates, but even that simple fact wouldn't stop them from drifting away. A spell like this wouldn't help when they're hundreds of miles away, separated by distance and time. 

Sigma went to his bedroom and dressed himself inconspicuously for his trip to town. A robe over his body, some feet coverings, and a shawl for good measure. His bandana was removed and left on a dresser, his scarred eyes barely hidden by a dark head covering. It wouldn't hide his identity from everyone, but it might be enough to let him go through the town without attracting too much attention. He bid farewell to Harold, who surprised him with a kiss on the cheek, and then drifted away before Sigma could even say anything, let alone reciprocate. As Sigma left, the noises of clothes and items stuffed into crates reminded him that this happiness was only temporary, and that Harold's departure was imminent. 

He walked through the town, trying to blend in with the locals, but it was obvious that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Without his bandana, he could see the shapes shift and twist, of heads turning in his direction in curiosity, or perhaps fear. He was tall, and he was pale, and he did not belong. No amount of clothes could cover that. A wave of panic made his lungs constrict as he remembered the last time he tried to hide in the crowd, hours after his escape from Talon as he tried to weave his way through the markets in search of safety. His mind shifted, the oppressive darkness of an old memory fading away, the golden light of Harold's form replacing it.

Funny how just thinking about Harold used to get him so pent up, and now it gave him comfort. A small smile flickered on his lips like lightning. 

Soon, Sigma found his way to a market stall. It was inconspicuous, nestled between two more popular shops, but for the few mystics in town, it was well known for supplying the best (though not necessarily most legal) products for magic and spells. The owner had not moved his stall since Sigma's last visit, which was a relief. What was not so much of a relief was the new owner; the son of the first owner. He had a lighter voice and a smaller gait, and much sharper features. They tried to sweettalk the other citizens as they tried to hurry on by, but it wasn't working. His voice wasn't as smooth and soothing as Harold's.

No voice could compare with Harold's, Sigma idly thought.

The younger shopkeeper turned to Sigma and chuckled. "I finally get to see you, dear Oracle."

Sigma frowned. "I don't believe we've met," he said in the Iraqi tongue, wincing at his atrocious attempt at the local dialect. He needed to practice more often.

"Your assistant has been to my shop many times, and each time he always tells me stories about you." There was excitement in his voice. "Is it true that you command the spirits?"

"I am here for  _ aqua vitae,”  _ Sigma ignored the comment.

“Yes, yes, Charon sent a message to me earlier. Told me to expect you. I have it here, ready and waiting for you, sir.”

Sigma took the flask the shopkeeper offered and glanced at it. There was a faint magical energy around it, playing a little melody that Sigma recognised. These melodies were like signatures, and this melody was in perfect memory, exactly how he remembered it sounding when he was a fresh-faced scientist. There was no doubt about it. It was pure  _ aqua vitae _ , bottled and ready for use.

As Sigma counted the amount of coins he needed to pay, he suddenly realized how long Harold had stayed with him. It was short, but it felt far longer than that, like years instead of a month. He almost forgot Charon was the name he went by with most people. He forgot that the name Harold was a special privilege that Sigma alone could wield.

He couldn’t stop the tiny little smile from creeping up his face. The shopkeeper noticed. “He likes you,” he commented.

Sigma bristled. “I-I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Aww, don’t be shy, it’s fine. It’s cool. Love transcends all barriers, don’t it?”

Sigma blushed. He wished love could transcend any barrier, but it wouldn't transcend the barrier that was distance and time. Nothing could. “Perhaps he does,” Sigma finally said.

The shopkeeper grinned. “Does he know you like him too?”

“It’s a bit more than like, and no, he does not know. There’s no reason to tell him. He will be leaving soon.”

“Isn’t that the best time to tell him then?”

Sigma opened his mouth but didn’t have a rebuttal planned. Instead, he paid the man the money he was owed.

The shopkeeper bowed. “Think about what I said, Oracle. I’d hate to lose a paying customer, and I’d especially hate to see you both leave without saying goodbye properly.”

The rest of the journey back to the temple, Sigma just stared at his hand, marveling at the sigil that Harold had crafted for him. The spell was potent, golden waves highlighting the way back home. As he walked, Sigma realised that Harold had done more for him than he did for Harold. He had to amend that mistake. If he could not prove his affection in words, then he shall reveal it with his actions.

The journey to the temple was fortunately uneventful, apart from the few whispers about Dr. Wen. Harold was by the entrance, lips pulled into a smile, but Sigmadid not stop to say hello to Harold. Instead, he beckoned him to the inner most chamber of the temple. A room that even Sigma himself rarely entered.

The prayer room was a hot spot of magical energy. It was so strong that Sigma would often lose the spirits to the many others that inhabited this room. A lot of these other spirits were trapped demons, stored in eternally burning candles that never melted. Others were house spirits, meant to protect the priests and priestesses and their charges. A few were drawn here by the spirits at Sigma's command, hoping perhaps to feed on his mind once Sigma's pact broke. Hot spots like these were rare things, due to the constant movement of the spirits within their realm. Part of Sigma's research had been into the formation of magic hot spots such as this one, but the last time he tried to form one, he ended up losing his eyesight and gaining powers beyond his mortal understanding. 

Even with the magic the spirits gave him, it wouldn’t be enough for this spell. Sigma could only perform it here, where the magic was strongest. It gave him the greatest chance of success.

It also gave him the greatest chance of Harold dying if he failed.

Harold put his hand out in front of him, feeling the ebb and flow of the spirit realm’s energy. He drew the tiniest portion in, observing it as it travelled through his body before releasing it.

“I can see why I’ve never seen you in this room before,” Harold chuckled nervously.

Sigma frowned, but concentrated his powers to make the correct summoning circle. The spirits knew what it was, and they had no reason not to betray him. They would be feasting on Harold’s life force. They’d never hunger again, if they did their job correctly.

“This is really happening. You’re going to be making me mortal,” Harold whispered. He didn’t sound happy. In fact, he sound utterly depressed.

“You cannot doubt yourself. This is what you wanted.”

“I…I know this is what I wanted, but I…” Harold trailed off.

Sigma sighed quietly as he approached Harold. He placed his hand on Harold’s shoulder, rubbing it slowly. “I understand this is frightening.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…when I first sought you out I had nothing to live for. All my loved ones will die while I lived on, I’d never get to live in peace because I’d always be chased to the ends of the earth. But then I found you, and suddenly there was something worth living for." He took Sigma's hands into his own. "You reminded me that there's beauty in the world. That every day we live is a gift, and I shouldn't squander the gift I've been given. And…and something else."

Sigma felt Harold's breath on his cheek and realised they had both leaned in unconsciously, centimetres away from each other's faces. "W-what is this something else?"

"You know already." Harold's lips twitched into a frown. "Do I really have to spell it out to you?"

Sigma wanted to say no, but that would be a lie. The strings between their bodies had reappeared, pulsating with energy. Sigma plucked one, but instead of that familiar feeling of hands on his most sensitive parts, now he felt something else. Something soft and malleable, pressing against his lips. If he opened his mouth, he might even taste something sweet flicker around the cavern of his mouth before plunging deep into his throat. It'd taste magnificent, like the nectar of the gods.

Harold let go of Sigma's hands, only for his fingers to creep up the fabric of his bodysuit. His palms were flat against Sigma's chest, their magical energies swirling and spiraling.

Sigma felt his throat constrict. "You…you can't."

"I'm sorry," Harold whispered.

"You have to go after this, I…I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you."

"It's not about whether either of us deserve it or not. I want you. I need you." He stroked Sigma's face. "Please, Siebren. One more time, before I go."

Sigma so wanted to give in to Harold's touch. In another life, maybe he could. In this life however, he gently guided the hands down, letting Harold's emotions and memories fade away from his mind. "W-we cannot. I cannot. We have a ritual to perform, and…and if you don't want me to do it, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Harold stared at Sigma for several seconds, and then several more. 

"Harold?" Sigma whispered.

"I thought...I thought you wanted me too. I thought we were soulmates." The golden energy that surrounded his body dimmed slightly. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

"Harold..." 

"Do it then, the spell," he said. His voice was completely devoid of life. "Make me mortal."

Sigma frowned. "Are you su—"

"I said, do it." His voice crackled with emotion. "Just…just do it already and I'll get out of your hair. That's what I hired you to do anyway, isn't it?"

Sigma knew this was wrong, but he had to live with it now. He ordered Harold to stand in the centre of the salt circle, let the spirits flow their magic through his body, closed his eyes, and began the chant.

The candles and items that he had prepared began to rattle, his tongue rattling off words in Dutch. The spell could work in any language, but he had to recall the spell perfectly with no flaws or stutters. He'd practiced and practiced until his throat was sore, and he knew he could perform it perfectly. If Harold broke the salt circle, Harold would be fine but the trapped demons would leave and the room would lose its magical essence and they'd never be able to perform the spell again. If Sigma faltered, the room would keep its essence, but the trapped demons would attack, taking as much life essence as their starving mouths would muster.

Harold followed along with Sigma, chanting when asked to, performing certain actions when ordered to, but he did it all without his usual vigour. Sigma tried not to falter, but he couldn't help but think about the consequences. If he succeeded in this spell, Harold would leave. If he failed the spell, Harold would be dead or he'd leave. He tried to consult the spirits and get a glimpse into his own future, but they remained silent, refusing to give him even an offer.

Sigma was trapped to a life of loneliness, and he could not live like this again. Not when Harold brightened up the desolate hallways, making the temple smell and feel and taste like a home. Not when Harold kept him warm in the inside and out, making him feel safe and loved.

Everything was beginning to rattle. The spirits had emerged, in plain view despite Sigma's blindness, flitting about the room in a circle, obeying Sigma's command. On Sigma's order, they'll feast on Harold's lifestream, and on Sigma's order they'll retreat, taking just enough for Harold to live the rest of his natural life, give and take a year according to Sigma's calculations.

It was just one action. One thing to do. This action will determine the course of their lives forever.

"Sigma?" Harold asked.

There was a spot of wetness underneath Sigma's bandana, dripping down to stain his cheeks. His throat felt tight and his muscles screamed for him to stop. But why? Why couldn't he do it? Why couldn't he make Harold mortal? Why couldn't he just let Harold drift out of orbit, never to be heard or felt again?

This wasn't what Harold wanted. Was this what Sigma wanted?

"Siebren?" Harold whispered.

Sigma felt the world shatter around him, and then he stepped forward, displacing the salt circle and breaking the spell. Harold cowered as the spirits let out a deathly screech, angry at this betrayal, but Sigma used his magic to summon a barrier between them. The spirits tried to attack, but they weren't quick enough, Sigma deploying and redeploying the barrier, taking in beat after beat of destructive energy. After a minute of this relentless onslaught, the demons left the chamber, leaving it hollow but safe. The hot spot was no more. 

Sigma huffed a breath in exertion, and then he heard the sound of Harold's footsteps approaching him. He expected Harold to grab him and push him to the wall, pressing his hands into Sigma's broad shoulders. He did not expect it to hurt as much as it did.

"W-why did you do that?"

"I-I couldn't do it. I couldn't let you be mortal."

"But why?" Harold asked.

"Because I…I…" Sigma grunted, unable to speak as more tears flowed down his cheeks. He suddenly knew why it was so hard to open up. He was scared of what Harold would see beneath the surface, scared that Harold might hate him. Fear had constricted him like a python, making him weak and foolish. That was what it was, wasn't it? He was weak, and foolish, and totally undeserving of the warm radiant light that was Harold Winston. 

Harold's hands were on his face, pulling the bandana up to look at his tearful eyes. "Tell me," he whispered.

"I…" Sigma knew he couldn't say it in words. But maybe he could show it in another way. Slowly he cradled Harold's face, letting his fingers feel his nose, his eyelids, his maddening little stubble, and then finally his lips.

He loved Harold, he thought to himself, as he leaned forward and pressed a slow kiss to Harold's lips.

Harold gasped, not expecting the intrusion but not fighting it either, his lips parting to let his tongue peek out, slithering to the slit between Sigma's lips, pushing it open. Within the cavern of Sigma's mouth, he flicked his tongue to the roof, behind his teeth, trailing every sensitive part reverently. Sigma didn't hold back, gasping into Harold's kiss. He wanted—no,  _ needed _ Harold to know what he felt. Harold needed to know everything about him. He couldn't hide anymore.

Sigma suddenly grabbed Harold by the shoulders, flipping them over so that he was pressing Harold into the wall instead. Harold moaned, his own hands trailing down Sigma's chest, past his stomach to cup his groin. He was crying too, and Sigma kissed Harold's salty tears away. He wanted to remember Harold's taste, Harold's texture, Harold's scent. The way he moaned lowly and the way he looked and the way he felt so perfectly in his arms. He wanted to remember it all, he needed to remember it all. He loved him too much.

"I love you," Harold said suddenly, making Sigma moan shamefully.

"D-don't," Sigma whimpered.

"You love me too," Harold said, awestruck.

Sigma nodded quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't want you to go."

"Then come with me," he breathed.

Sigma blinked rapidly, his eyes clouded with tears. "I…how?"

Harold dug his hand into a secret pocket of his robes and took it out for Sigma to see. Even from this close, Sigma couldn't see the contents very well, but there was a huge amount of magical energy surrounding it, a haunting melody that defied all description. Sigma had never encountered such a thing in his life, but somehow he knew instantly what it was. The elixir of immortality. A potion for eternal life.

His eyes widened. "H-Harold…"

"Be immortal with me," Harold whispered. "We can be together forever. We'll never be apart."

"No…" Sigma whispered.

"We'll explore the world, I'll guide you along. I'll tell you what everything looks like. We can be together, we can do anything, and if it doesn't work out, we can start all over again."

"Do you really think you can love me for eternity?"

"I know I will," Harold said quietly. "I've seen you for who you are." He wiped a stray tear from Sigma's cheek with his thumb. "You keep forgetting I'm magical, Siebren. I can see into your mind too. I've seen the work you did as a scientist, the royals you worked for, the lives you helped. I've seen the ritual that cost you your sight, the way you flew too close to the sun in the pursuit of discovery. I know you fought tooth and nail to escape your tormentors, who sought to use your powers for evil. I know you care what others think about you, and I know you care about me."

"I'm scared," Sigma admitted. "I'm not the great Oracle the people think I am. I used to be great, back when I was Siebren, but I'm not that man anymore. I'm old, and I'm blind, and I'm fragile, and I'm weak. I don't deserve your love, and I don't deserve immortality."

"But you love me?" Harold breathed.

"Of course I do," Sigma whispered, equally as breathless. "For as long as I breathe, I will love you. But I can't accept your gift. And as much as I would love to, I can't run away with you."

Harold's eyes went cloudy as he stared at Sigma's lips. "So…so what do we do then?" He asked quietly.

Sigma felt Harold's cheek. "We remember each other. One last time."

Harold lowered his head but nodded. "One more time."

Harold moved to touch Sigma, but Sigma used his powers to pull Harold's hands above his head, returning the elixir of immortality back into Harold's pocket. He felt Harold's robes, trailing down to the edge near the bottom, exposing Harold's half-hard cock. He squirmed slightly in surprise, but didn't make a sound as Sigma captured his lips once again, his hand wrapping around the shaft and sliding up and down slowly. Sigma wanted to prolong this as much as he could. He wanted to remember Harold.

There was an explosive wave of emotions as Harold kissed back passionately, mitigating Sigma's powers long enough to wrap his arms tightly around Sigma's shoulders. Unlike before where it was a heap of emotions that overwhelmed Sigma's senses, now there were only two: sadness and love. The strings reappeared before their bodies and with his other hand, Sigma stroked them. Their bodies shivered at the same time as warm fingers trailed down the small of their back. As Harold panted, small begs and moans spilling eagerly, Sigma knew they were feeling the same thing. Their minds were truly one now.

Sigma played the strings like a harp, and a wave of hands—Harold's hands—touched his ass, pressing their slick heat into his puckered hole. Harold inhaled sharply, lips pulled up into a tight smile as the same thing happened to him.

"What do you feel?" Sigma asked, even though he knew exactly what Harold was feeling.

"Hot," Harold breathed. "Glorious. Ecstatic." He let out a small gasp as the invisible fingers breached past the band of muscle. " _ Everything _ ."

Sigma couldn't help but smile through the tears as he stroked the strings, letting the phantom hands caress their bodies and press their fingers further into their ass. Like their owners, the hands were hungry, pinching and twisting nipples, rubbing thighs and cocks, pressing lightly against their throats. Sigma captured Harold's lips again, and again, trails of saliva spilling down to Sigma's hand, which was still stroking Harold's cock at a moderate pace, spreading precum. It was so much at once, but Sigma relished in this feeling. For Harold, he'd give anything and everything. He was sure that Harold knew that too.

Sigma knew Harold was close, because he was getting close himself. He opened his mouth to ask, but Harold must have known, because his fingers dug into Sigma's shoulders, his body shaking in anticipation, or perhaps even desperation.

"I love you," Sigma groaned.

"I know," Harold huffed. "I love you."

"I know," Sigma said.

"I love you," Harold continued, knowing that it'll send spark after spark flying through Sigma's body. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Harold," Sigma whimpered.

"Siebren," Harold sighed.

Their mouths met, the strings vibrated, Harold moaned, and Sigma couldn't help but feel like the universe was guiding him to this euphoric, perfect moment. Their orgasms combined into one being, taking the strength out of their lungs as sticky lines dribbled in the space between them, staining the floor. Sigma wanted to collapse, wanted to fall asleep with Harold by his side, but Harold held him up before he might actually do so.

It took Harold a long time to let go of Sigma. Sigma, even longer to let go of Harold. They stared at each other, gazing into red-rimmed eyes, and then they held each other again and laughed, joyfully, tearfully, tragically.

Harold ran his thumb over Sigma's scars, a small smile playing on his lips. His hair was mussed up, and his glasses were tilted, and he was still only shapes and colours, but Sigma thought he was the most beautiful person in the world.

"Harold," Sigma said.

"Siebren, I…" Harold's eyes widened as he suddenly scrambled to clean himself up, a wave of panic transmitting through his touch.

Sigma barely heard the spirits warning of  _ danger  _ when the sound of glass breaking and candles bursting into flame surrounded his senses. There were footsteps, so many footsteps, and they were pointing weapons at him. Sigma summoned the hyperspheres, the weapons granted to him by the spirits for his servitude, but they were never meant to fight so many men at once. He hoped they didn't know that. Perhaps the act of intimidation might be enough to ward off the attackers.

There was one pair of footsteps that weren't like the rest. The click of heels on the stone floor. Sigma felt his face fall.

"Dr. de Kuiper," Lady O'Deorain said. "You've been lying to me."

Sigma unconsciously put a hand in front of Harold. Golden energy could faintly be felt behind him, growing in intensity. "Don't do this," Harold started.

"This is for the name of progress," she uttered.

"I won't let you touch him," Sigma growled, blocking Harold from Lady O'Deorain and her band of assassins. 

"You won't?" Moira tutted her lips. "Do you realise how much I've done for you, letting you live here like this? If you disobey me, I will take you back to the organisation. Talon won't be so kind with their treatments, I can assure you."

Sigma remembered the serums and potions, the ones that tortured his body and soul. A spike of fear rose up but he thought of Harold, and successfully quelled it. "You can't touch Harold."

"I believe it's Dr. Wen, actually. Or at least, that's what they say on the posters," Moira said. "Even if you escape me, the whole city knows who he is now. A lot of people will kill for the bounty that's been put up. Even I think it's a tad excessive, but any bit of money is useful in the name of progress and research. I'm sure you understand, Dr. de Kuiper."

Harold gritted his teeth, the energy around his body growing brighter, bigger. Harold's hand brushed against Sigma's, and for a split second Sigma saw Harold's thoughts. His eyes widened microscopically, too small for anyone to notice. Did he really trust Harold this much to place his life in his hands?

"Surrender Dr. Wen, and I will let you continue to live your life in peace here." Her lips curled into a smirk. "I'll even let you have the bounty money. You'll be financially stable for the rest of your life, no need to interact with those insects we call people. You can pursue whatever research you want. You'll never have to suffer again."

Sigma turned to Harold, fear and shock stricken across his face. It was a crazy plan Harold had in mind. A stupid one. An insane one. And yet despite this, he trusted Harold. 

After all, Harold was so willing to give up his life for Sigma. It was time to return the favour. 

_ Now, _ Sigma mouthed.

The strings of gravity at everyone's feet began to glow golden, and suddenly a burst of power surged up, striking their bodies. A wave of indescribable pain shot up Sigma's body as he collapsed on the ground alongside everybody else. The voice of the spirits was fading. The world was spinning, getting darker by the second. And yet for a brief moment he saw Harold in perfect clarify, eyes wide open, lips agape as he rushed over to Sigma's side.

Harold fiddled with his robes until he found the vial, trying to open it with his shaky hands. Sigma wanted to protest, wanted Harold to leave him there to die, but he was too weak to speak. He was too close to Harold, physically and emotionally, and it was this very reason that he was now dying. Staring up at Harold,  Sigma thought he wouldn't mind dying right then and there. Harold was holding his body so carefully, tears beading in his beautiful brown eyes, his touch screaming of love despite the horror and sadness. With the rest of Sigma's strength, he slowly moved his hand up to wipe the tears away from Harold's eyes, marvelling at how they glittered for him alone. 

There was a pop, and then warm hands enclosed around Sigma's jaw, pulling his lips and mouth open. Liquid flowed down Sigma's lips to his throat, and it tasted absolutely vile, but Harold was massaging his throat, forcing him to swallow. His body protested, trying to cough the poison out, but he was too weak to even do that. Sigma felt a dreadful tiredness overcome his body, and he collapsed, faintly aware that Harold was holding onto his hand, confessing his love over and over like a prayer to the gods themselves.

At least he told Harold that he loved him, Sigma thought as he finally succumbed, falling into a dreamless sleep.


	5. Beyond touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of COVID, I'm going under tough times, so I'm opening up fanfic commissions. For just $5AUS dollars per 500 words, I'll write a Sigrold fanfic based on your prompt, SFW and NSFW. If you're interested, send me a message either here, or on my tumblr [@alphawave-writes](https://alphawave-writes.tumblr.com/) or my twitter [@alphawave13](https://twitter.com/Alphawave13). Any little bit helps!

Sigma awoke in a cart of all things, travelling along an abandoned road. There was patches of green amidst the drab yellow sand, the sun setting over the horizon. What looked to be a winding river of crystal blue rolled over the flatlands. He glanced down and noticed that his clothes had been changed, replaced with something more similar to what the Oasis locals wore. His hands were bandaged and bruised, the golden jewelry of the priests now adorning his fingers but otherwise he was fine. A donkey was pulling the cart slowly, led forward by a man in familiar clothes.

Sigma shifted, catching the man's attention. They turned around and smiled warmly. Sigma could not see their face clearly, but he didn't need to. From the warmth that enveloped his core at the sight of this man, he already knew exactly who it was.

"Welcome back, Siebren," Harold said softly.

Sigma sat up slowly, only to smack his elbow into something. There were a lot of jars in the cart he was in, as well as a few boxes with rattling coins, as well as some baggae filled with extra clothes. They all clinked around within the cart, making their contents known to anyone who dared be near them. "How did we not get attacked by bandits?" Sigma's eyes wandered the horizon. "Where are we?"

"I pulled a few favours from your guards to sneak us out, and I paid them for their trouble. As for where we are, well…I'm not so sure about that." Harold glanced at the sunset. "We're heading East though. Away from Oasis."

"So this is it then. No turning back," Sigma said. He felt for the spirits' presence and was relieved to find that they had settled down somewhat, their strength renewed. Sigma focused his power and was surprised to feel the presence of something else inside of him. A new well of energy, vast and limitless and brilliant and destructive like the sun. He'd felt this energy before, every time his skin ever made contact with Harold. 

He turned to Harold, eyes wide and mouth agape. Harold let go of the reins to the donkey and reached out for Sigma's hand. Their energies swirled around each other before combining together. It was one and the same. This power was one and the same.

"You're immortal now," Harold said. "Just like me."

"Immortal?" Sigma whispered.

"That was the only way I could save you. I saw your lifestream, and it was broken to pieces. If I didn't do it, then you'd be dead. I couldn't save you either way, I had to, I…" Harold took a shuddery breath in and out. "I'm sorry. I panicked, and I didn't want to let you go, and now you're cursed like me."

Sigma stared deeply into Harold's eyes. They appeared almost golden in the dying sunlight. "You didn't want to let me go?"

"I didn't say _I love you_ because it was the heat of the moment," Harold chuckled bashfully. "Or perhaps you didn't understand me then. Would it make more sense if I said _ik hou van jou_?"

Sigma's cheeks went crimson. "Y-you didn't…"

"I never did tell you I used to live in the Lowlands myself for a bit." Sigma could hear Harold's smirk even if he couldn't see it all that well. "I might have picked up the local language during my stay."

Sigma turned his head away. "So ever since the night of the full moon, you…"

"I know you love me, Siebren. For a long while now," Harold said. "And if we're being honest, I've probably loved you for even longer than that."

Sigma went silent for a few moments, taking in the sunset, the slight breeze, the soft bushes and the flowing river and the skittering animals. He must have passed through this place at least once. He didn't just stumble into Oasis with no memory, he was guided there by maps and equations, back when he was still blessed with the sense of sight. But did his younger self, with crystal clear vision and a sharp mind, truly see this sprawling, beautiful landscape? Did he appreciate the chaotic beauty of nature? Did he see the magic in life? Of course he didn't. The grass was greener on the other side. Only when he lost his vision could he truly see the world for its tragic beauty. 

The cart was still steadily moving, the donkey not slowing one bit. Sigma’s eyesight was still horrendous, but he saw the teared edges of Harold's clothes, the purple knuckles and scratched red arms, and the lethargy in Harold's movements. It must not have been an easy feat to sneak out of Oasis. Talon had its clutches on the city, and they would not rest until they had the ultimate power of limitless life. Harold would have fought, but the idea of Harold fighting his battles was not a pleasant one. He wanted to protect, not be that had to be protected. But then again he could not see this coming. He suspected not even the spirits did.

Sigma floated up and out of the cart, moving side by side with Harold. He turned to Harold and nodded his head sharply. Harold let out a quiet sigh as he rested his head on Sigma's shoulder. In turn, Sigma wrapped his arm around Harold's waist and floated him up, letting both their feet hover just above the ground. A small comfort, but it might be enough.

"So what do we do now? Now that we're immortal, I mean," Sigma said.

"I don't know," Harold admitted. "You?"

"I'm…I'm not sure. I don't know what is out there anymore. There are humans and animals, but also other beings in a realm just beyond our reach." He reached his hand out to the sky. "They're watching us, even now. Waiting to make their move, for good or evil or none of the above. Now that I've been uprooted from my home, I might never know who or what they are. My greatest experiment might never be solved."

"Again, I'm sorry," Harold frowned.

"Don't be," Sigma said, letting his face soften. "You saved my life."

Harold rubbed the back of his head bashfully, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips. "I didn't give you the elixir just because I've got feelings for you. I've seen the way you pour yourself into research, the joy it brings you, the structure it provides. Given the gift of infinite life, you'd make great things, I'm sure of it." Harold's smile faded. "If I'm lucky, I might be able to tag along for the ride. Make my mark on the world—a good one, that is. So far all I've done is bring disaster to everybody around me."

"You don’t bring disaster," Sigma said.

"Then what about this situation? We won't be able to know peace. We each have our own ghosts chasing us. We can't die naturally, but that doesn't mean we can't be killed. Soon as our enemies find this out, they will not rest." Quieter, Harold said, "I don't want you to fight my battles, Siebren. Just as I'm sure you don't want me to fight yours."

Sigma turned his head away, frowning deeply. That was the big thing still. They may both be immortal, but they may not necessarily be immortal together. Even bound together like this, they could still drift apart. Their demons were still chasing them, and they'll follow them both to the ends of the Earth, possibly for all eternity.

"You saved my life," Sigma repeated slowly.

"You said that already," Harold remarked.

"Because you saved my life more than once," Sigma replied. "I've done horrible things, Harold. Unspeakable monstrosities commanded upon me by both Talon and the spirits. They feed on my weakness, both of them, like leeches to the jugular artery, and I barely escaped with my life. I could've squatted at any abandoned building, but I chose the temple because it was far away from everybody. Nobody would judge me for the monster I was. Nobody would ever be harmed by me. When rumours of the Oracle emerged, I had enough money to hire some guards, but most obey me because they fear what I can do. You were the only one to see me as a man."

"Siebren," Harold whispered.

"I don't know what you see in me, I don’t. You see me as something capable of so much good, even though I’m not. You believe that I am special, and that I am worth loving." Siebren frowned. "Maybe if I hear it enough, I’ll believe it myself. Even without any evidence.”

Harold smiled softly. “This is what I mean.”

Sigma tilted his head. “About what?”

“About loving you for all eternity.” The strings reappeared between their chests, and Harold plucked one gently. A wave of warmth caressed Sigma from the inside out. “You really are my soul mate.”

Sigma felt for one of the strings and stroked it. Heat collected near his lips. From the way Harold's eyelids fluttered, the same occurred on his lips. “And you are mine,” he said.

“Is that a promise?” Harold whispered, eagerness and trepidation and hesitation staining his voice.

Sigma smiled shyly. “Only if you will let me.”

Harold giggled, his hand rising up to hide his gorgeous smile and his crimson cheeks. “I’m holding you onto that promise. I don’t wanna let you go that quick.”

Sigma gently guided Harold's hand away from his face, pulling it down so they could entwine their fingers together. “I think you’ll find I’m very hard to get rid of once I’m attached to someone.”

“Good,” Harold squeezed back. “So am I.”

They took turns walking the donkey and the cart, conserving their strength for a journey of untold length. A small town was just in the distance, with light and food and drink, and most important of all, an inn they could shelter in. As they entered the inn, Sigma noted the scent of cooked meats and the clink of jugs of warm beer. The local drunks were lounging in a corner while a couple of men smoked from an _Argilah_. Between the two of them, they had plenty of coins, not that it would do much for them once they passed the border. They might as well be frivolous tonight. This might possibly be their last night in relative comfort, at least for a while.

They ordered the best food and drank the local beer, chatting freely about anything and everything that came to their mind in a quiet corner of the inn. It only seemed right that Sigma opened up about everything. It was the least he could do, to repay for all the times Harold had opened his mind up for Sigma's probing. The very first thing that they both learned was that Sigma was a lightweight and Harold evidently was not. Sigma cradled his first and only beer, not even a quarter empty, while Harold had already finished half of his second. For every story that Harold weaved with his words, Sigma did his best to reciprocate with a story of his own. When Harold talked about his studies, so too did Sigma. When Harold spoke about his travels, Sigma recounted the perilous journey he took to get to Oasis from the Lowlands, and his inability to pick up the local accent. When Harold said he first fell in love with Sigma less than a week after meeting him, Sigma shyly admitted that he loved him since the incident at the springs, but only acknowledged it after that moment they shared under the full moon.

They laughed and smiled, their worries and fears gone for this fragile moment of peace they shared together. Maybe the beer had intoxicated him and clouded his mind, or maybe he was drunk off Harold’s presence, but Sigma felt bold as he conspired ways to touch Harold. A hand on a shoulder. A thumb to wipe away the beer foam from plump, kissable lips. A teasing little nudge with his foot to Harold’s knee.

Harold chuckled coyly as Sigma's toes rested on his leg. “Bit forward, aren’t you?”

Sigma smirked as he pulled his toes up, trailing over Harold’s inner thigh. “By my calculations, if I stimulate this erogenous zone for approximately two minutes more, our trajectory will be towards the newest bedroom.”

Harold spluttered with a laugh. “OK, first of all, that’s a horrible pick-up line.”

“I am assuming there’s a ‘second of all’,” Sigma raised his eyebrows

“Second of all,” Harold grabbed Sigma’s foot under the table, massaging the sole lightly, “you are a jerk and you’ve severely underestimated how much I want to be alone with you.”

“We were alone on the cart for hours today. Unless you're worried the donkey was going to blab to its friends,” Sigma smirked.

Harold slapped him lightly on the arm. “Get a room already.”

“Alright, alright,” Sigma laughed.

The process of getting a room was rather simple. They paid the money for a single room and were given a sign to hang, a number that matched the number of their door. The bed was decent, and the view outside their room wasn't spectacular, but it was theirs for this brief night, and that was all they needed. They dropped their belongings carelessly on the floor and then collapsed onto the bed side by side. For a few minutes Sigma stared at the empty ceiling, trying and failing to glimpse into the future. The spirits were displeased with him, but even if they weren't, they couldn't see what his future held anyway. He was unbound from time, an array of infinite possibilities at his fingertips, extending far beyond like branches from a tree. And his tree would continue to grow for as long as he still lived. 

He could ponder more on this question, but for once he didn’t want to think. He found Harold’s hand beside him and squeezed. Not a moment later, Harold shifted so he was lying on top of Sigma, placing a small kiss to his lips. This simple kiss escalated to something more as their mouths slid open and their tongues darted out, tasting the cooked meats from each other's mouths. Sigma gave, and Harold took, letting himself get washed away from this simple, worldly pleasure as Harold stole his breath away. By the time they finally separated, only minutes had passed, and yet it felt like an eternity. What Sigma wouldn't give to spend an eternity touching and kissing Harold.

Sigma ran his thumb over Harold's bruised lips, staring up at the most beautiful man in the world. A smile peeked out, and then Harold parted his lips slightly and took Sigma's thumb in, sucking lightly.

“Harold…” Sigma whispered.

The thumb slid out from Harold's mouth with a pop. “How far do you want to take this tonight? I’m up for anything and everything, if you’ll let me. We could sleep, we could kiss until morning light, or…” he leaned forward and kissed Sigma's neck, “we could do something more daring.”

“We'll do it all,” Sigma laughed. "One step at a time."

“Then what do you want to do first?” Harold asked.

“Kiss me,” Sigma sighed. "Please."

Harold grinned. “My pleasure.”

He took Sigma’s face in his hands, cradling his jaw tenderly before kissing him with unspeakable passion. First with their lips, and then with their tongues, swirling and exploring, drawing out as many groans and sighs as possible. Sigma leaned forward and slid his lips to Harold's jaw, then the shell of his ear, then the soft junction between Harold's neck and shoulder. He bit lightly until the skin was tinted pink, and Harold gasped lewdly. Sigma took mental notes of the places he kissed that drew the most vocal reaction from Harold, certain in the fact that he will need to use this in the very near future. Whatever the future held, he was going to make sure this was not their last time together in bed. 

Sigma moved to take the belt off Harold’s robes, pausing for a sign that this was not wanted or that he was moving too fast. But Harold sighed happily, lifting his arms up high. With Sigma’s strong hands, he delicately pulled the robes off and away, exposing Harold’s naked body.

His lips trailed Harold’s collarbone reverently, sucking on the soft flesh lightly. “You’re so handsome,” Sigma hummed.

“You can’t see me,” Harold pointed out.

“Doesn’t that make it more special? That a blind man like me knows you’re handsome?”

Harold giggled bashfully. “Perhaps.” His fingers found the edge of Sigma’s own robes and pulled them up and over his head. Sigma gasped lightly, making Harold giggle again. “But I’m not the only gorgeous one here. I’ve got you, don’t I? And I get to have you all for myself.”

Harold’s lithe fingers felt his soft pecs, his toned stomach, traveling lower at a snail pace. Heat blossomed from his touch, making Sigma’s breathing quicken. Harold leaned forward for another greedy kiss with his greedy tongue while his hand brushed over the thick bush of hair near his groin, trailing down to the base of his throbbing cock. Sigma was quick to surrender as the now-familiar wave of love and lust overwhelmed his senses, moaning to the ceiling. 

Harold let his other hand hover in the air as the strings between their bodies re-emerged. He began to tug on them lightly but Sigma enclosed his hand around Harold’s wrist, dispelling the spell.

“Siebren?” He whispered.

“No magic,” he said, just as quiet. “No spirits, no magic, and no strings of fate. Just you and me.”

Harold nodded slowly, and then he leaned backward for a second to take his glasses off. When he couldn’t find a place to deposit them, he slid them into Sigma’s face, earning a quiet chuckle from his lips. The glasses, as Sigma suspected, did nothing to help his eyesight. Sigma wrinkled his nose, the glasses tilting with his movement, earning another laugh.

“You done?” Sigma smiled.

“Any more requests before I not-so-magically find the lubricant, oh great Oracle?” Harold said in an exaggerated voice.

“Actually, there is…one thing,” Sigma glanced away. It was just a thought but…no, it might not work. It’s been too long. Why ruin what might be their last comfortable night like this with such an experiment?

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering if I could, um, be on the receiving end tonight.” He cleared his throat loudly. "Only if you'd want to, that is."

“O-oh. I guess that explains why you didn’t eat much dinner.” Harold frowned microscopically. “That takes something out of the books.”

“What is it?”

Harold opened his mouth, paused, then headed out of bed to a small trunk. Within it he got what appeared to be the jar of lube and something else that Sigma couldn’t describe. It looked long and thin and pale as the snow. What it was, however, Sigma could not tell.

By the time he returned to bed, Harold’s blush seemed to have multiplied. In his hands were the jar and the mysterious object. Noticing Sigma's curious gaze, he held the object close so Sigma could see.

Sigma's cheeks crimsoned. “R-rope, Harold?”

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to get tied up. I was going to ask if you could tie me up or something, but if you want to bottom for once, I understand this might be too much. We can do it some other time."

Before Harold might say more, Sigma cupped Harold’s face, interrupting him. “Harold, whatever you want to do, I’ll do it. I love you.” Softer, he added, “I trust you.”

“G-good,” Harold breathed. Despite his nervousness, there was no denying the excitement in his voice. He took his glasses off Sigma's face and slid them to the edge of the bed. “R-right. Well. I best get you prepared, shouldn't I? Sit up and turn around.”

Sigma did as Harold instructed. His wrists were pulled behind his back, the rope gliding over his skin. A well of fear and anticipation filled his chest. He’d never done this. Not the rope, not the bottoming, not running away to start a new life, not immortality. They were scary but they were also new, and they were luxuries he couldn’t afford to waste. If he shied away from scary, new things, he'd never be here in Harold's arms, with infinite power and life in his bloodstream. And after all, wasn't that the purpose of experimentation, to learn from these scary, new things? He could accept it easily enough if he just thought about it as an experiment. 

Harold’s deft touch assuaged some of his fears, working steadily as he guided the rope over his arms and wrist. His fingers would often pause to rake down Sigma’s backside or reach lower to squeeze his ass, making Sigma shiver in delight. When Harold was done, he gently guided Sigma down onto the bed, his chest flat on the mattress and his ass held high. Sigma glanced over his shoulder to find Harold staring at the body, seemingly in a trance. 

Sigma smiled shyly. "Earth to Harold."

"S-sorry, it's just...wow." Harold chuckled nervously. "I can't believe my luck that I have you like this. Can't believe I have you for all eternity."

"I'm not going to wait all eternity," Sigma said. "Could you please get on with it?"

"You're so impatient," Harold teased as he opened the jar and spread the glistening lube over his fingers. He leaned forward and pressed the tip of a finger into Sigma slowly. In an instant a cold shock zapped both Sigma's mind and body, making him shiver again. When Sigma recovered slightly, Harold began to slide his finger in and out, coating Sigma's ass with the slippery, wet lube. 

"Harold…" Sigma gasped.

"I'll be slow," Harold said, voice laced with lust. "I want you to feel good."

"D-don't just say things like that," Sigma blushed. "You don't need to be slow for me. I can handle it." _Maybe_ , he added but didn't say.

Harold chuckled lightly as he pressed a second finger in, pumping at a slightly faster pace. Sigma tugged at his restraints, his eyelids fluttering. This tight wetness was such a new but wonderful sensation and it was making him dizzy in ecstasy. Harold's magic was coursing through his touch, shooting up into Sigma's brain. Sigma was sure this magical bond between him was making him far more sensitive than he should be, and yet he didn't want to stop. He wanted more, more. As long as it was Harold he'd always want more.

A third finger went in, pumping a little bit faster. Harold's fingers curled up inside Sigma, and he swore he could see the stars as those fingers brushed against his prostate. Harold's other hand trailed down his back, round his hips to enclose around Sigma's leaking cock. A shameful moan dripped from his lips as Sigma rolled his hips against the palm of Harold's hand, his desperation growing. It felt like he would tear apart if he wasn't given what he craved, if he wasn't filled, if he wasn't stroked. He knew Harold felt this desperation, but he never imagined it would be this intense. Now, right now, he needed to be defiled _now_.

Sigma glanced over his shoulder, his entire body tinted rouge. "Harold, please."

"Already? But I haven't even got the fourth finger in." Harold said in an amused tone.

"Harold," Sigma said in a more commanding voice.

"Alright, alright," Harold giggled lightly as he took another coating of lube and slowly stroked his cock, slicking it. Sigma could feel Harold shift forward, his wet cock rocking against the cleft of his ass. He inhaled deeply as Harold's love flooded his mind, spiking in waves with every roll of his tantalising hips. He rolled his hips back to the same rhythm as Harold's hips, hoping to coax Harold to hurry up, to give him what he craved.

Harold's hands gripped onto his hips tightly, steadying him. Sigma's balled fists shook against his restraints in anticipation. Harold drew his cock back, letting the tip kiss against Sigma’s entrance.

"Ready?" Harold asked softly.

"Yes, please," Sigma whimpered. "Please. I want you now. I need you."

Harold sharply inhaled, dug his fingers into the soft flesh of Sigma’s ass, and then slowly pushed his cock in.

Sigma bit on his lip to stifle his moan, but it didn't work, a soft "ah!" escaping his lips. It felt so glorious and wet and warm. Harold filled him up so perfectly, sliding in and out of him languidly but fluidly, slow but powerful, as if Harold already knew exactly how he wanted to be fucked. Harold was moaning too, whispering soft little things that made Sigma’s skin prickle with need and desire. From their shared minds, Sigma could feel Harold’s magic stroke the corners with the same speed and rhythm as his hips, as if Sigma was being pleasured both physically and mentally.

Sigma could barely handle it. Being pleasured in two different ways simultaneously, everything felt much more intense. Everything felt so much better. “Mmm, Harold…”

"You're handling it so good. And it's your first time too." His hot breath tickled Sigma's ear. "Maybe you can handle a little bit more." Harold snapped his hips, driving his cock harder into Sigma. He groaned lewdly, knowing all too well he was completely and utterly at Harold's mercy.

He wanted to ask how Harold knew this was his first time when suddenly Harold shifted the angle of his cock, making him moan deeply. Harold's magic had seeped into his mind, making his brain spark and flicker with the light of a thousand fireworks. Sigma's fists shook, trying and failing to break free from the restraints.

"Ah ah ah," Harold teased, not slowing his brutal pace down a single bit. "Not yet, Siebren. Not yet."

"Harold, please, _ahhh_." Without his sense of sight, his other senses were already heightened, but with the additional loss of his sense of touch, it felt like his remaining senses were working on overdrive. The scent of Harold's sweat was driving him wild. The sight of his cock gushing down onto the bed was undeniably arousing. The sound of Harold's strangled moans of pleasure as his hips crashed into Sigma's ass was the most beautiful chorus. His body was so sensitive to every little touch. If Harold just hit his prostate a bit more, if he just angled his cock at the perfect spot, Sigma might unravel completely.

"You're doing so well. You can take it so well," Harold whispered. "You let me know if it's too much."

"It's not enough, I need more. I want more. Please."

Sigma heard Harold chuckle lightly as he slid his cock out. Before Sigma could react, Harold's hands gripped tightly onto his waist, turning him around and sitting him on his lap. It took a second for Sigma to figure out what had happened. He rocked his hips slowly, sliding his ass against Harold's cock.

Harold placed a tender kiss to the lobe of Sigma's ear. "Is this good enough for you, Siebren?" He whispered. 

Sigma leaned forward and kissed Harold eagerly as he felt Harold line himself up. He opened his eyes for a second and stared into the dark void that was Harold's eyes, waiting for the light, the signal, the go ahead. Harold's eyes shimmered for a second as he let out a quiet, pleading sigh. Sigma smiled softly as he descended, filling himself with Harold's cock once more. Harold wrapped his arms around Sigma's chest, moaning.

"Gosh, Siebren, yes. Yes, yes."

Sigma slid up and down at a brutal pace, giving the both of them little to no build-up. Not that either of them wanted or needed it. Harold's mind was screaming for more, and Sigma was sure his mind was screaming the same thing. He adjusted himself, angling his body until he felt the head of Harold's cock hit his prostate. It felt incredible, addictive, amazing. He had to hit it again and again and again, milking that indescribable pleasure for all it was worth. Just a bit more. He was so close, so madly close.

He angled his descent badly and Harold's cock slipped out of his ass. They groaned loudly. 

"Siebren," Harold warned.

"S-sorry. I've never done this before," Sigma blushed.

"I know, but you don't need to rush it," Harold smiled softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sigma let out a quiet chuckle as he descended slowly until his ass was touching Harold's thighs. He bit down lightly on his lip, suppressing a moan. " _We_ are not going anywhere."

Harold grinned brightly as his fingers traced the rope bindings. With a sharp tug, the rope came loose and Sigma's hands came free. 

“H-Harold?”

“Bondage doesn’t suit you. I know you want to touch me.” Harold pressed a chaste kiss to Sigma’s cheek. “Let me be at your mercy this time.”

With his arms free he could do whatever he liked. Push Harold down and take him from the top, touch him in all his sensitive places until he came, torture him with his caresses. He could do almost anything and Harold would eagerly go along with Sigma's whims, but Sigma had a different plan in mind. He let his hands settle on either side of Harold's jaw, cupping it as though he was holding the world in his hands. In a sense, he was. Harold was his world, and he would always find his way to him. He closed his eyes, imagining Harold and all the things he had done for Sigma. There were almost too many to count. Harold had been so good to him since the very beginning. 

Tears began to bead at Harold's eyes, which he hastily wiped away. "Y-you know I can read your thoughts, right?"

"I know," Sigma hummed. He kissed Harold on the lips, on the cheek. His hips slowly began to move again, almost lethargically, sensually, just enough to keep them on the edge.

Harold huffed. "You really are a jerk." But he was smiling while he said it, gripping Sigma's shoulders tightly when their hips pressed together. His thoughts were all focused on Sigma, and his love and adoration for him. From his intellect to his wisdom to his weird little jokes, Harold transmitted it all back to Sigma. 

Sigma chuckled bashfully as he pressed another long kiss to Harold's open mouth. He imagined all the wonderful things about Harold—his beautiful voice, his constant optimism, and open mind— and watched as Harold’s face broke out into a breathtaking smile.

"I love you, Siebren," Harold said quietly.

"I love you too, Harold. Till the end of time,” Sigma whispered.

Harold kissed Sigma's lips softly. "Till the end of time."

The heat of their orgasm ebbed and flowed as Sigma slowly rode Harold. When it did came, it trickled up their bodies, less an explosion and more of a wave flooding over them. They kissed through this indescribable bliss, and when they were spent, they kissed some more, collapsing back into the bed in each other's arms. They did not speak, just let their slowing thoughts do the speaking for them, telling their life stories and their greatest triumphs and greatest fears for them. What their thoughts couldn't speak, their wandering fingers did, breathing new life into their every touch, expressing countless untold stories.

With a wave of his hands, Sigma summoned two cloths to wipe them both clean. Harold initially relaxed into it, until Sigma plucked the invisible strings between their obdies. Harold let out a surprised gasp as he felt something warm and wet and invisible enter his hole. 

He looked down at Sigma, his expression quickly turning lustful. “I thought you said no magic tonight.”

“That was when I thought I only had the energy for one time.” Sigma tugged at the strings, making the invisible lubed-up finger press deeper into Harold. “I might have the energy reserve for at least one more go.”

Harold grinned mischievously. “At least?”

“I paid good money for this room, and I plan to maximize my usage of it.” He reversed their positions, pressing Harold back into the covers. He smiled indulgently. “I hypothesise that I can get you hard again without even touching you.”

“That’s some hypothesis,” Harold breathed. “Do you have the evidence to back up that theory?”

Sigma smirked. "I've got just the experiment in mind."

That night, Sigma fucked Harold himself, becoming one in both mind and body. By the end of it they were sweaty, sticky, and very much dehydrated, and absolutely and hopelessly in love with each other. When they both finally fell asleep in their arms, there was nothing they didn't know about the other. They slept peacefully that night, the marks on their palms glowing, perfectly content just to have each other, for now until eternity. They will find each other. That, they promised one another.

* * *

In the morning, they ate the breakfast the inn provided. They were downstairs, dressed in more unassuming clothes. Despite Sigma's best efforts, he couldn't stop grinning. It was a honeymoon phase of sorts, because they had already pledged to stay with each other for as long as time would let them, but that was all they had figured out in terms of their plans. Where they go from here, what they do, it was all up in the air. Anything and everything was possible. They had almost nothing to hold them back. 

"We could head to the Safavid Empire in the West," Sigma suggested. "Ardabil is not unlike Oasis. Considering all the different dignitaries that visit there, we would not look out of place."

But Harold shook his head. "What business would we have in Ardabil? The Dutch East India Company own all the major trade routes so there's not too much business there. They're also not too keen on foreigners at the moment, especially English speaking foreigners."

"I know languages other than English and Dutch."

"So do I, but English seems to be the one we're best able to communicate in. I wouldn't take my chances," Harold said. "Why not Georgia instead?"

"Not Georgia. I'm not wanted in those lands."

"Why would they not want you there?" Harold asked.

"The Tobelsteins wielded far more power than I expected," Sigma frowned. "They messed with the fabric between reality and the spirit world far too much and I objected. I wouldn't be surprised if they end up floating into the heavens for their hubris like I did when I was a young, stupid fool."

"Don't put yourself down, Siebren. You shouldn't be ashamed of your powers.” Harold sighed. “So not Georgia then. Somewhere else. But where?"

As they began to rack their heads for ideas, two men stumbled through the entrance and plopped themselves down near the bar. One was tall and thin, with odd machinery on their right arm and leg. The other was fat and menacing, a mask hiding away their features. Their skin was pale as snow. They were definitely not from this land. The thin man ordered a beer, while the fat man ordered water.

If their appearance was hard to ignore, the thin man's outbursts were impossible.

"Can't believe th' Overwatch Guild is a thing. Always thought it was some legend going round those parts. Here, Roadie. You hear about it?" The man said in accented, but fluent English. It was definitely his first language.

"I was there with you," the man known as Roadie huffed.

"I mean, I know I'm supposed to be the comic relief, but how is a bloke to believe that an enchanted gorilla's its new leader? And don't get me started with the automaton, mate. In our lovely lil' collisseum we had a glorious champion, and then it just buggers off to the middle of nowhere, Gibraltar?"

"The queen wants us to get 'em back," Roadie gruffly replied.

"Assuming some mage's piloting it, and not like…I dunno, a hamster. That'd be a real kick , wouldn't it? A hamster rolling a ball automaton? But what kinda hamster would have that much smarts and magic? Not any that I know."

The man known as Roadie turned his head toward Harold and Sigma. Even behind his mask, they could feel his deathly glare. "Junkrat, shut up."

"Hey, don't interrupt me, I—oh." Roadie forced Junkrat to turn his head.

The two strangers stared at Sigma and Harold for several seconds, as if gauging them. Then, after a minute of uncomfortable silence, Junkrat rolled his eyes and nursed his beer.

"Don't bother, Roadie. They're just wizards." The man known as Junkrat spat out the word like it was poison.

"Least they don't have golems."

Sigma could've picked a fight, or perhaps even correct the two men on their technically incorrect use of the word 'wizard', but he didn't. Instead, he stared at Harold. They shared the same knowing look in their eyes, their faces lighting up. A path had been unveiled to them, glorious and brilliant and full of potential. It was almost as if it was fate guiding them along.

"Winston?" Sigma asked, and Harold nodded eagerly.

“And Hammond.” The descriptions matched. There were no other super-intelligent gorillas and hamsters that they knew of. It had to be them. Winston and Hammond had to be alive, and members of this Overwatch guild.

“You’re aware of what the Overwatch guild is?” Sigma asked, even though he knew Harold would know by now. They shared all their memories, their feelings, and their knowledge. They had nothing left to hide anymore. 

“A ragtag bunch of adventurers bent on saving the world, one magical disaster at a time.” Harold stuck out his hand. “What do you say, Siebren? Ever wanted to join a guild?"

"I've joined enough guilds in my day, thank you very much." Sigma's lips curled up into a grin as he took Harold's hand. "Although I must say, I'm awfully curious as to how you've enchanted a gorilla and a hamster with the gift of intelligence. You know I’m up for another experiment.”

Harold grinned. "An adventure, you and me.”

"Oi, I heard that. You two!" The man known as Junkrat suddenly stood up, his expression becoming dangerous very quickly. He muttered something to Roadie, who took out an enchanted hook.

"But first, maybe we should get out of here?" Harold smiled nervously.

"We should probably do that," Sigma said.

With the wave of his hand, Sigma summoned the barrier as they raced out of the inn and ran toward the sunrise together, a world of untold possibility and struggle and wonder all ahead of them, just beyond their fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of my crazy Oracle!Sigma fic. What was supposed to be a PWP ended up very much being porn with a WHOLE lot of plot. But I guess that's what makes it fun. Hope you had fun on this sexy Sigrold adventure, because I sure did. Who knows? Maybe in the future I'll explore a different AU, or perhaps concoct another sexy situation to get them both into XD Until that time, any support you can give is super appreciated.


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